Blog

By Jeni Huff

I’ve been working at the synod office for more than ten years and I’ve been on staff at my home congregation for two-and-a-half years. While I worked only at the synod office, I understood that it was quiet around the office in the summer and around Christmastime and Lent because church staff persons were busy at church and not looking for support from the synod at those times. But my brain didn’t make the connection that when I joined a church staff, I would also be busy at those times.

Someone once told me that, when you start working for the church and seeing “how the sausage is made,” your perspective can change. Boy, was she right!

I’ve been going to church since I was in fourth grade and seasons like Advent just seemed cozy and twinkly. Somehow the church just decorated itself and kids just magically knew what to sing and say in front of the church.

“I’ve been going to church since I was in fourth grade and seasons like Advent just seemed cozy and twinkly.”

While many people may have just started thinking about Advent a few weeks ago, your church staff started thinking about it months ago, mulling over questions like:

• “When should we have the Christmas Pageant? And the bake sale?”
• “Who should buy all the ingredients for the bake sale?”
• “Who should do the Advent readings each week?”
• “How many Christmas services do we have the capacity to do this year?”
• “Who will decorate the church?”
• “What should we do for the youth Christmas party?”
• “What is the best way to let people know about all the special events and the dates we won’t be meeting?”

I’ve heard a pastor say that Advent is easier for pastors, but it’s the admin people, the youth and children’s ministry people, the decorating people, the volunteer coordinating people, and the communications people who are feeling a heavier lift during this season. (And I know many of these people are not even paid to do this important work!)

AT MY CHURCH I work mostly with Family Ministry and Communications. (But, “other duties as assigned” is a pretty loose term in church work, am I right?) You might be surprised to learn we started planning the Christmas Pageant at the beginning of the school year. We set the date, started thinking about the songs the kids would sing, and started creating graphics to advertise it months ago.

And the role of a parent adds to the challenge of enjoying the season. I need to help my kids remember their lines and songs for the pageant and keep track of which days we don’t have Awana or MOPS, not to mention the school programs and the gatherings with friends and families! That is an added load that many of us also carry. 

“The admin people, the youth and children’s ministry people, the decorating people, the volunteer coordinating people, and the communications people are likely feeling the heavier lift during this season.”

All of this is to say that making Advent look all cozy and twinkly when you walk into church on December Sundays doesn’t happen by itself. Several people put in hours (and hours) of work to tell you what time and day to walk into church and to make it all cozy and twinkly.

Maybe the next time you see these folks, give them an extra smile and a joyous thank you for all their hard work. Drop off a Christmas card or bring them some of your extra Christmas cookies! In my experience, a little appreciation goes a long way!

By Pastor Wondimu Sonnesa

For our prayer life to be a peaceful journey with God, it is crucial to recognize and maintain the divine-human boundaries. No matter what our position is or which part of the world we are bringing our prayer concern to God, we need to respect God’s freedom of acting as God sees fit. Because prayer is not dictating that God act in a particular way, our confidence in prayer lies not in how perfectly we can coin our words, but in God’s promise to hear and answer our prayer.

That promise is sufficient to build a child-parent relationship expressed in consistent trust. This trust stands firm even in the face of the storm only because of who God is. Of course, there are times when we fail to pray, but the groanings of the Holy Spirit sustain our faith (Romans 8:26). The blessings we have received show not how strong our prayer life is to overcome the challenges, but how faithful our God is.

“The more we learn who Christ is, the better we understand that prayer is not just about us.”

Let me illustrate this with a story I read a long time ago about a father and his ten-year-old daughter travelling by boat. When the storm suddenly confronted them, other people on the boat started shouting and throwing their heavy belongings into the sea. But that little girl didn’t allow her napping to be interrupted. Not trusting his eyes, one of the crew in the boat approached her and asked how come she sleeps peacefully while their boat is nearly swamped by the storm. She asked, “Is my dad still on this boat?” They answered, “Yes.” She responded, “I don’t need to be worried about the storm as long as my father is in the boat, no matter how strong the storm is.” And she continued to nap.

Her choice doesn’t prove that the actions of other passengers to save life was unnecessary. It rather magnifies the power of trust in a father’s love that guarantees protection. Likewise, overcoming the spiritual stagnation more requires feeling and trusting in God’s presence than reliance on what we can do to calm the storm.

The little girl was enjoying peaceful sleep maybe not just because she knew she was accompanied by her dad. Perhaps she may also have a fresh memory of his springing into action to rescue her in dangerous moments. That gives her peace amid the violent windstorm, … no matter how strong the storm!

A PEACEFUL SPIRITUAL JOURNEY is more about focusing on who is with us than the absence of disruption. Sometimes we take for granted Jesus’ companionship and neglect asking important question until we experience calmness in our surrounding. This reminds us of the disciples’ encounter with windstorm while crossing the sea of Galilee accompanied by Jesus. They knew that the situation was hopeless. All they can do was waking him up and asking, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” (Mark 4:38). It was after Jesus rebuked the wind and restored the calmness on the sea that they could ask the question prompted by their experience of his intervention, saying, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” (Mark 4:41).

How often does God’s rescuing intervention create eagerness in us to know God more closely.

The more we learn who Christ is, the better we understand that prayer is not just about us. It is also asking God a short question about the experience of others: Who really is God for those who are going through difficult situation in their life? Those who are suffering injustice, persecution, and violation of human rights may need our prayer.

“The blessings we have received show not how strong our prayer life is to overcome the challenges, but how faithful our God is.”

When Martin Luther emphasized the importance of prayer and repentance in the absence of calmness, he suggested that it should be brief and consistent, like, “Oh help us, dear God the Father; have mercy on us, dear Lord Jesus Christ!” (Luther’s Works, vol. 46, 1967:173).

When we do this on behalf others, it simply takes us a few seconds to say, “God help them, have mercy on them.” It is so small to be attached to our prayers of thanksgiving and praise comfortably. It is so easy to be carried as far as Gaza, Israel, Ukraine, Sudan, and Ethiopia. Yet, it is powerful enough to restore peace and calmness in God’s world because of the fellowship we have with the groaning Holy Spirit, no matter how strong the storm.

By Pastor John Hulden

Can our congregations work like an Amtrak dining car?

I’ve travelled on Amtrak’s Empire Builder between Minnesota and Montana since my college days and again last week. What a ride it is: lakes country of Minnesota, prairies and oil fields of North Dakota, prairies and wind turbines of Montana! Half the time we follow the route of the Lewis and Clark Expedition along the Missouri River from 220 years ago. Then, the train takes us around the southern edge of Glacier National Park — a place the Blackfeet Nation calls “the backbone of the world.”

When it was time to eat, Becky and I made our way to the dining car. The host greeted us and invited us to sit on the same side of the table, … because … the next guest(s) walking into the dining car would be seated across the table from us.

“You get to meet new friends!,” said our host with a smile.

“It’s easier to talk to someone new while sharing a meal together.”

On our trip out to Montana, we enjoyed the company of a young couple making their journey from New Zealand to Chicago to Seattle, and eventually, to settle in Vancouver, British Columbia. On our return to Minnesota, we had breakfast with a mom and a daughter from Chaska who were on their way back after time with grandparents in Minot, North Dakota. Both encounters (and others) were delightful conversations with “new friends” over a meal.

When does that happen in my life? When do I have the opportunity for a half-hour conversation with a stranger? One thing that is clear to me: It’s easier to talk to someone new while sharing a meal together.

IN OUR WORK WITH congregations involved with our Faith Practices and Neighboring Practices initiative, we try to have food at every gathering. No surprise our scripture theme for this round with our 17 congregations is the Walk to Emmaus (Luke 24:13ff). Two disciples encounter a stranger on the day of Christ’s resurrection. The travelers walk and talk, and a meal is shared. And then, a revelation — complete with heartburn. “They said to each other, ‘Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?’” (Luke 24: 32).

One of the books I read while away in Montana was Gil Rendle’s Countercultural: Subversive Resistance and the Neighborhood Congregation [Rowan & Littlefield, 2023]. Rendle sets up the book reminding readers about Tara Isabella Burton’s analysis of the three “civil religions” in the US.

Our social justice culture has become an individualistic fight against the powers – more for my rights than for the common good. The second is techo-utopianism, where we count on future technology to make my life better by fixing what ails me.

“They said to each other, ‘Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?’”

The third civil religion leads to Christian Nationalism: atavism. This is a throwback to the “good old days” when men were men, women were women, and you did not question authority. [Tara Isabel Burton, Strange Rites: New Religions for a Godless World (New York: Public Affairs, 2020)]

The church — perhaps all “institutions” — has become counter-cultural to these individualistic civil religions. Your congregation stands against those prevailing ways of operating in the world. Jesus followers listen to their neighbors, see God at work on every road travelled, and offer food and conversation, … to new friends.

Common food begets the common good. All Aboard!

By Johan Baumeister

In front of an ancient, timbered house in Eisenach stands an apple tree. I’ve never seen it in person, but it can be viewed as it looked when Google last drove by in October 2020. Below the tree you’ll see a plaque. On that plaque is written a quote often attributed to Luther — though like the Lutherhaus folks, I feel compelled to acknowledge that it is found nowhere in his writings or those of his contemporaries. Translated, it reads, “Even if I knew the world were going to end tomorrow, I would still plant an apple tree today.”

The apple tree at Lutherhaus

Planting an apple tree is an act of hope and generally requires some level of commitment to care for it. Every year, you’ll need to consider and engage in pruning, applying compost, monitoring the health of the tree, watering the tree, thinning out the smaller fruits, and finally collecting the harvest. And for at least the first two or three years, you will need to do the work without expectation of the tree bearing any fruit.

“Even on my most difficult day, I feel better when I’m planting one of Luther’s metaphorical apple trees.”

The apple tree metaphor reminds me of my own journey through recovery. At some point along the way, someone told me that “Hope is where you point your heart, and commitment is when your feet are pointing in the same direction.” I think that’s akin to what Luther was advising; stay hopeful and keep following through on your commitments no matter how much you may despair.

For a person like me who lives in recovery from chemical and mental health challenges, it’s encouraging to know that even across the deep gulf of 500 years my own struggles aren’t completely alien to Luther or the people around him. “I’m not alone” is a helpful message contained therein. But also, “Our problems today are not so unique that they’re unrelatable across history.”

REGARDLESS OF WHETHER the quote is Luther’s or not — and I choose to believe that it is — Hessian pastor and Confessing Church leader Karl Lotz used it in 1944, while encouraging and reassuring his colleagues through difficult times. Lotz’s colleagues in the Confessing Church movement, which was founded 10 years prior, had failed to stop or even truly blunt Nazi brutality. They were not alone in that failure, nor were their attempts to succeed free of risk or cost.

The world was ending, in a sense, and it might well have felt like the Confessing Church had not done enough. Even as totalitarian thugs threatened doom for every even remotely “disloyal” word or act, Lotz was planting and watering seeds of hope and persistence in the minds of his colleagues.

“We each have our own challenges, unique to our own lives and circumstances.”

In the village of Putten, in the Netherlands, the month of October 1944 opened with a nighttime ambush by members of the Dutch resistance on a single car carrying two Wehrmacht officers and two corporals. One German lieutenant was mortally wounded. In retaliation for the Dutch resistance attack, the Germans raided the nearby village of Putten and took the entire male population aged 16 and older and deported them to concentration camps. More than 550 men and boys — 90% of the 16+ male population of Putten — perished. The world would indeed end for them in a very near tomorrow. But as the train departed, these men and boys of Putten did not rage. They did not curse their captors. Instead, they sang the verses of Psalm 84:

Blessed are those whose strength is in you,
    whose hearts are set on pilgrimage.

They chose to reply to vengeance not with curses or despair, but by planting a sapling of hope in God’s blessings in their own hearts and in the hearts of those who would remember them. Their hope was in their Creator and the Creator’s Kingdom, and their actions imply that their commitment to that hope lasted to the end.

A monument to those fallen at Putten

WE EACH HAVE our own challenges, unique to our own lives and circumstances. Some of us have certainly faced death, and most have likely not. Few, if any, of us have faced the evils and adversity that Martin Luther, Karl Lotz, or the men and boys of Putten did. I do know this to be most certainly true: Even on my most difficult day, I feel better when I’m planting one of Luther’s metaphorical apple trees.

It is a certainty that difficult days lie ahead. It is also certain that you can find seeds of hope, plant and nourish them, and — perhaps years later — see some of them bear fruit. The Confessing Church movement that Karl Lotz was a part of and whose founding ultimately cost Dietrich Bonhoffer his life bore fruit from trees of hope planted by those men and others. From their Stuttgart Declaration, I echo their hope and prayer and invite you to do so as well:

We hope to God that through the common service of the churches, the spirit of violence and retribution — which wants to become powerful again today — will be controlled throughout the world and that the spirit of peace and love will come to rule, in which alone tortured humanity can find healing.

By Nicholas Tangen

This year, my wife and I accidentally adopted a puppy named Wendell. Friends of ours, overwhelmed with the attention a puppy requires, asked if we could help find a new home for the little guy and, … well, you know how it goes.

Wendell is a doodle of some kind, which means like many of his doodle confreres he is sweet, intelligent, curious, and whatever the extreme end of energetic is called. He is happy to sit before he eats or before we let him outside, but his little paws cannot stay still while he does it. No matter how many walks we take him on, or how many balls we through for him, he just shivers and shimmies with excitement. It’s … cute.

“It’s been a while since I had a puppy, and I’ll be honest, it’s been an adjustment.”

And, that energy, mixed with curiosity and a puppy’s trademark impulsivity, make him a real pain in the … places you don’t want pain. He chases the cats everywhere; loves to drag every toy we own out into the middle of the living room (including our shoes, which are his now apparently); and has developed a taste for mail left out on the kitchen table. He’s still cute, but good Lord.

It’s been a while since I had a puppy, and I’ll be honest, it’s been an adjustment. The attention he craves, the training he needs, and all the expenses that come with the puppy package have all been a lot to handle in an already busy day to day. And last week, I came home to find one of my books, the book I was currently reading, tore to shreds on the bedroom floor. And for some reason, that felt like the last straw.

I was tired; I was (per usual) late to my next meeting; and this dog just couldn’t stop destroying things in the house. I began to wonder if we had the energy and capacity to live with a puppy. I felt at that moment that we had really made a mistake. “What were we thinking getting this puppy!,” I kept saying to myself.

We already have a dog and two cats; it’s not as if we are understaffed in the pet department. The whole time I was having my own little pity-party, Wendell just sat there, curiosity on his face.

AT BISHOP’S THEOLOGICAL Conference a couple of weeks ago, Dr. Catherine Meeks said something that has been stuck in my mind like the hook in a song. She said, “It’s important to know the difference between an inconvenience and a tragedy.”

Dr. Meeks was inviting clergy and church leaders to “start close in” in our work for racial reconciliation and justice, and to care for ourselves as an act of radical love. The overwhelm, the fear, the perfectionism that all too often can dominate my own way of being definitely limit my ability to see goodness close in and my ability to imagine a different future. And the catastrophizing of inconveniences is an element of that limitation.

“Would I see mistakes as opportunities to experience grace? Would I encounter delays as a chance to practice being present?”

I’ve been noodling on her words since she said them, and I’m curious what might open up for me if I encountered inconveniences for what they really are. Would I see mistakes as opportunities to experience grace? Would I encounter delays as a chance to practice being present? Would I encounter interruption as an invitation to connection and community?

Would I encounter a gnawed-up book as the curiosity and the playfulness of a dog less than a year old?

In those moments when I am not overwhelmed with the inconvenience that necessarily accompanies a puppy, I am instead overwhelmed with the excitement, the love, and the joy that Wendell brings to my life. So, while I am certain to get frustrated and angry when he destroys something I’d like him not to, I’m going to try and remind myself to be present to the gift he embodies.

Besides, it’s no tragedy to buy another book.

By Manny Lewis

In our fast-paced and interconnected world, it is easy to get caught up in our own needs and desires. However, the concept of service reminds us of the importance of looking beyond ourselves and extending a helping hand to others.

But what exactly does it mean to be of service? There is profound meaning in being of service for our neighbor, for God, and for ourselves.

Being of service for our neighbor

Being of service for your neighbor means actively engaging in acts of kindness, compassion, and support towards others. It is about recognizing the inherent value and dignity of every individual and striving to make a positive difference in their lives.

Such an awareness can take various forms, such as volunteering, donating to charity, or simply offering a listening ear to someone in need. By servicing others, we foster a sense of empathy, contribute to a more harmonious society, and create meaningful connections.

Being of service for God

For those who believe in a higher power, being of service for God takes on an added dimension. It involves aligning our actions with the values and teachings of our faith, seeking to honor and serve God through our interactions with others.

As we engage in acts of service, we fulfill our spiritual duty and demonstrate our gratitude for the blessings we have received. By living a life of service for God, we deepen our relationship with the divine and find a greater sense of purpose and fulfillment.

Being of service for ourself

While being of service often involves selflessly helping others, it is important to recognize the significance of serving ourselves as well. Self-care and self-reflection are essential components of being able to effectively serve others. Taking care of our physical, emotional, and mental well-being allows us to show up fully and be present in our service to others.

Additionally, being of service to ourselves means acknowledging our own needs, dreams, and aspirations, as well as striving towards our personal growth and fulfillment. By striking a balance between serving others and ourselves, we cultivate a healthy sense of self-worth and ensure our own well-being.

Being of service for your fellow man, God, and yourself is a profound and meaningful endeavor. It goes beyond simple acts of kindness and involves a deep commitment to making a positive difference in the world. By embracing the concept of service, we foster empathy, strengthen our spiritual connection, and nurture our own growth.

“Serving God involves aligning our actions with the values and teachings of our faith.”

So, let us reflect on this question: What does it mean to be of service? And let our actions be a testament to our dedication to serving others, honoring our faith, and cultivating personal well-being. Remember, the power to transform lies within each one of us. Let us embrace the opportunity to be of service and create a better world for all.

This means recognizing our own needs and nurturing ourselves so that we can continue to give to others without depleting our own resources. Self-service involves setting boundaries, practicing self-care routines, and cultivating a mindset of self-compassion. By taking care of ourselves, we become better equipped to serve others in a sustainable and meaningful way.

The ripple effect of service

When we are of service to our neighbor, to God, and to ourselves, it creates a ripple effect that extends far beyond our immediate actions. Acts of service have the power to inspire others and create a chain reaction of kindness and compassion. When we show kindness to one person, they may be inspired to do the same for someone else, and so on. This ripple effect spreads positivity and uplifts the entire community.

Being of service is a powerful and transformative practice that enriches our lives and the lives of others. It is a reminder of our interconnectedness and the profound impact we can have on the world around us. Whether it is through small acts of kindness or larger endeavors, being of service for our neighbor, God, and ourselves brings purpose, fulfillment, and a deep sense of meaning to our lives. So, let us embrace the opportunity to be of service and make a positive difference in the world.

By Bob Hulteen

Gov. Al Quie was a friend of mine.

You might think I’m bragging to mention this. Actually, I am more mystified by it. Really, it might just be proof that there is a God.

The first time I was in Al Quie’s proximity was at a protest during his one term as governor of Minnesota. I was protesting him. Well, I wasn’t protesting him personally as much as his policies. But, at the time, I probably felt like I was protesting him, as I was frustrated with choices he made about cutting taxes and unilaterally making budget cuts on programs for vulnerable people through unallotment. That was in 1980, I believe – around the time I was finishing up at Concordia College.

I soon moved to Washington, D.C., and forgot about those Minnesota budget issues.

Arne Carlson was governor when I moved back to Minnesota. And, within a few years, I found myself interacting with Gov. Quie again – this time as he was a lay leader within the ELCA of the Word Alone movement. And, while I found myself once again on opposite sides with him, I deeply appreciated his commitment to “hearing out” folks that disagreed with him and showing them remarkable respect, even when they didn’t return the favor.

By US Government Printing Office – Congressional Pictorial Directory, 95th US Congress, p. 77, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=24696996

His commitment to finding a way to move forward on complicated issues that aroused people’s passion had a deep impact on me.

ONE OF MY STRONGEST memories of Gov. Quie took place at a synod assembly, possibly in 2004 at the Minneapolis Convention Center. At the suggestion of the Joint Religious Legislative Committee, my then-pastor, Rev. Ron Johnson, and I wrote a resolution for consideration before the Assembly regarding a 10% surcharge on taxes to help get the state out of a budget crisis. (Background: Gov. Tim Pawlenty, while seeking his party’s endorsement for governor, had promised no increases in taxes under any circumstances.) This surcharge was a means to try to fix the severe crisis the state faced.

As debate began at the Synod Assembly, I stepped into the que behind Microphone 2 to speak in favor of the resolution. I noticed that Gov. Quie, also a voting member at the Assembly, was in line at Microphone 1. With a feeling of increased anxiety, I figured that I better quickly sharpen my talking points.

Gov. Quie was called on to speak; I will never forget. He opened by saying, “While I might suggest a 12% surcharge might be better, I support this resolution for 10% because it offers Gov. Pawlenty on off-ramp to commitments he has previously made.” He filled most of his two minutes talking about different choices he might have made while governor, but I don’t remember what else he said. However, I was aware that he had offered a gift – to those who were struggling under the budgetary cutbacks and to the current governor. Knowing he would take hits from others in his party, he sought a way out that would offer some shred of dignity.

“Gov. Al Quie’s commitment to finding a way to move forward on complicated issues that aroused people’s passion had a deep impact on me.”

Later, while I was organizing director at TakeAction Minnesota, Gov. Quie and I worked together on issues around judicial appointments. Although we came at the question from slightly different angles, we ended up with the same conclusion and enjoyed the chance to work on issues around voting right expansion together. In the process he once again taught me the value of finding common ground with others (as opposed to assuming I was on higher ground, and that others should come find me).

I also remember covering an event as a journalist that I believe was sponsored by Word Alone, though it may have been a Lutheran Congregations in Mission for Christ. Several speakers had been attacking with vitriol then-Presiding Bishop Mark Hanson. Gov. Quie stood up in front of the room, stating his disagreements with Hanson on the specific topics, but arguing that he was a man of integrity who shared many of the fundamental values of the group gathered. He was actually booed off the stage, and he came and sat with me – the journalist in the room. He expressed his concern for our increasing lack of civility toward one another. (These last years of our body politic must have been challenging for him.)

The last time I shared any significant time with Gov. Quie, I believe, was while he was “holding court” at the Perkins in St. Louis Park. He walked me around to every table, introducing me to all of his friends there. And, those rare people who he didn’t know the people were introduced to the both of us!

I am a better person, as the Director of Communications and Public Voice for the synod, because of Gov. Quie, even though we rarely agreed wholeheartedly on particular issues. He taught me that issues are important, but that establishing relationships that last, even in a politicized environment, was even more essential.

He had faith in Minnesotans. He had faith in God. Thanks be for his memory.

I write this blog as the Gov. Quie lies in state in the Minnesota Capitol.

By Pastor Craig Pederson

This is a blog about a boat.

Perhaps you’ve heard the old saying, “The two best days of a boat owner’s life are the day they buy it and the day they sell it.” For the past six years, I have looked back on my “buy it” day with great joy! But, I’ve also had varying levels of doubt, wondering if I had purchased the right one – or if I should have purchased one at all.

Let me explain.

In the spring of 2017, after several months of careful research, I bought a Crestliner Sportfish 1850 with an Evinrude 150 E-Tec motor. (If you’re not interested i specifics, just substitute “a boat.”) It was seven years old; it had minimal hours on the motor; … and it was beautiful. The minute I saw it, I had that special feeling that this would be the vessel that would provide countless hours of fun together with family and friends for years to come.

“A vessel can be a beautifully crafted item made of the finest materials, but its purpose is not to be known in and of itself.”

It was a bittersweet acquisition, however, in that it was made possible only by using some of the inheritance I received following my dad’s death the preceding year. Before he died, the plan was to get a boat so that he could teach his grandkids to fish and enjoy their recreational antics out on the water. But an aggressive form of non-Hodgkins lymphoma took him from us sooner than we were prepared for.

In his honor, we have had a ton of fun and relaxation on this boat. We are not a fishing family, but our kids invited friends to come and ride on the Super Mable (an oversized towable floatation device – think blow-up loveseat), or to kneeboard, or to just hang out on the water on a beautiful summer day. And, the boat always got a healthy workout during our annual extended-family weekends at a resort near my hometown.

FROM THE VERY START, these many joys were offset by many challenges that made me wonder if it was all worth it, or if I was really “qualified” to be a boat owner in the first place.

For example, on our maiden voyage, we had been cruising for less than ten minutes when the “low-oil” indicator on the dashboard started flashing and beeping. It turned out that the dealership where I bought the boat had not filled the oil tank (and I didn’t think to check it). Later that summer, a faulty oil sensor shut down the motor and ruined one of our few scheduled weekends at the lake, eventually requiring a costly repair.

The following summer, there was an embarrassing episode where I was distracted while unloading at a boat launch, and I mistakenly unhooked the boat from the trailer rope. As I backed into the water, the boat started sliding backward and the trailer tilted upward, sending the boat thudding down onto the concrete slab of the launch. This is a sound I would not recommend attempting to replicate.

“Before my dad died, we planned to get a boat so that he could teach his grandkids to fish and enjoy their recreational antics out on the water.”

And there were other humbling incidents, like when the Super Mable blew out of the boat on County Road C in Roseville – directly across the street from the Roseville Police Department. As we scrambled to get it off the road and back into the boat, a stern (yet quite amused) police officer came out to assist us and said, “Around here, we suggest you tarp your load.” That was a point well taken.

Then last summer, while on our annual family resort weekend, we anchored the boat on the shore and went up to the cabin for lunch. The wind turned and suddenly increased, blowing the waves in rather than out. By the time we realized what was happening, water had overtaken the back of the boat and it was swamped. A spontaneous family Crisis Response Team formed, and a dozen of us from ages 5 to 85 bailed it out with pails, kitchen pots, and drinking cups until it was seaworthy again.

So this summer, after using it only twice, we decided it was time to face our boat’s “sell it” date. Our kids are older and busier. I still have a job that requires me to work weekends (happily so!). And, the cost of storage, winterizing, recreational accessories, insurance, gas and oil, etc., just don’t outweigh the joys we’ve experienced. We still love the boat, but now we wanted someone else to be able to love it, too.

AFTER LISTING IT ON Facebook and Craigslist, I received a number of inquiries. One particularly interested person with whom I exchanged several messages ultimately said, “Thank you for your time in answering my questions. Really pretty looking vessel. Unfortunately, I cannot make it mine.”

This notion of a vessel has stayed with me. A vessel can be a beautifully crafted item made of the finest materials, but its purpose is not to be known in and of itself. It is meant to be a carrier of something else. Our boat was beautiful in our eyes, but more importantly it was a vessel of memories and relationships that gave us joy and fulfillment.

I sold the boat last weekend.  In worship that Sunday, we sang this verse during the Offertory Hymn:

We raise our hands to you, O Lord,
Like empty vessels,
Oh, come to us and give us life
From springs where living waters flow.
(“We Raise Our Hands to You, O Lord” ELW #690, st. 1)                               

We, too, are vessels – beautiful in our own right, created in the image of God. But the highest fulfillment of our purpose and joy is when we carry the love of Christ that flows like living water to those who are seeking grace, or justice, or forgiveness, or belonging.

The buyer of the boat ended up being the guy who called it a “pretty looking vessel.” After I lowered the price to my “final offer” online, he responded almost immediately saying that he could make that price work. I’m grateful for our time with this vessel of joy and fulfillment. I hope it will serve the same purpose for his young family.