Guest Blogs

This post continues the Mission Table’s “Year of Partnership” highlighting the new and strategic ministries of the Minneapolis Area Synod. Lao Evangelical Lutheran is one of the strategic ministries and worships in Robbinsdale.

By Pastor Thiem Baccam
Lao Evangelical Lutheran Church, Robbinsdale

My name is Thiem Baccam, and I have served as the pastor of Lao Evangelical Lutheran Church for over 30 years. Lao Evangelical was developed and organized here in the Minneapolis Area Synod as a ministry of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. The church has gone through up and down times. There was a time when our community had grown to include more than one hundred members. At present, we are a small Laotian congregation, worshipping in facilities provided by Elim Lutheran Church, Robbinsdale. We extend our thanks to Elim for the kind welcome, for the generous hospitality that they have shown us, and for a place that the Lao church can call home. We are also thankful to the Minneapolis Area Synod for its support and prayers. 

When this Lao church started, our calling was to do outreach among the first generation of Laotian immigrants in the Minneapolis area. Bible studies and worship were conducted entirely in the Lao language. Three decades later, the congregation has transformed and is being led by the second generation. It has been necessary to adapt and change. Worship is now done bilingually making use of both Lao and English. 

A group from Lao Evangelical on July 4, 2025

Pastor Thiem doing a baptism in 2024

While culture and leadership are different, the mission and vision are still to witness and share the gospel of Jesus Christ with Laotian neighbors and with all people: “this gospel of the Kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations.” (Matthew 24:14)

As we continue the work to which we are called, we need partner congregations to help sustain and encourage us. We pray and hope for partners in Christ that share our passion for outreach among the Laotian community. Partnering with our community is an opportunity to learn and share the love of God together. Ministry partnerships are especially important because of the deep relationships they can build. 

If you sense God’s call to begin a partnership with Lao Evangelical, please reach out and start a conversation with us. To help you discern, here are some specific ways that we are looking to partner:

• In Prayer…that the Gospel will be preached and the Holy Spirit will reach into the hearts of the Laotian community. 
• Through People…to help with music, youth activities, and additional programming. 
• Through Technology…for developing a website and other “marketing” materials to reach into the Laotian community. 

Lao Evangelical is willing to assist ministry partners in serving the Lord together. We want to encourage you in your calling to reach out to neighbors and show God’s love and care. We are committed to praying for ministry partners. I invite you to pray and respond if God is calling you to begin a new relationship with us. 

Lao Evangelical Lutheran Church
3978 West Broadway Ave.
Robbinsdale, MN 55422

pastthiem@comcast.net

This post is one of the monthly posts blog posts written by the deans of the conferences of the Minneapolis Area Synod. 

By Pastor Sue Olson
Long Lake Lutheran Church, Isanti
Dean of the Northern Conference

In Paul’s letter to the Philippians, chapter 4, verses 6 & 7, we are reminded: “ ⁶ Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. ⁷ And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Yet, we have raised an anxious generation and are facing a mental health crisis. In his book, “The Anxious Generation,” Jonathan Haidt makes a case for the decline in the mental health of our adolescents and a rise in depression, anxiety, self-harm, and suicide. He’s a social scientist who believes that a play-based childhood began to decline in the 1980s and was replaced by the phone-based childhood in the early 2010s. Think about that and where you fit in. Think about it again and see where the children you work with fit in. This generation of adolescents should be happier and healthier than any other generation throughout history, yet they are lonely and sleep deprived and have attention deficits and social anxieties.

I read this book with fascination as I related it to the decline of youth programs and youth participation in worship and education. I strongly encourage anyone who works with children, youth and families to read this book. (“The Anxious Generation” by Jonathan Haidt, ISBN 978-0-593-65503-0 Penguin Press, 2024) I agree that children need outside play and unstructured play. We over-supervise our children and are overly fearful for their safety. None of us over 50 were raised with parents watching our every move. Currently, many youth spend the majority of their time indoors, sitting alone in their bedrooms using screens. They constantly compare and shame each other: what they are wearing, what they are eating, what activities they are engaged in. They play video games for hours with “friends,” who are really strangers, from all over the world and are engaging in fewer face-to-face interactions. Daily time spent with actual friends has dropped dramatically in just 10 years. This is all very concerning.

Many homes previously had one shared computer in a public place in their home where parents could see everything their child was looking at. Now, many kids have access to computers or smart phones in the privacy of their bedrooms. You don’t have to think too hard to imagine what they can access on purpose or run into accidentally.

Haidt explains how our youth have become addicted to screen time; the neurotransmitters in their brains receive dopamine when an action feels good or is rewarded. Algorithms in computer programs and games are designed to dole out these rewards to build habits. Pleasure motivates users to keep using. Game developers and social media developers manipulate users with similar tactics as animal behaviorists. Studies quoted in the Haidt book state that the average teen reports spending more than seven hours a day on screen-based leisure activities which do not include school and homework. Most don’t have time, or interest in what we have to offer for youth programming. We can’t compete.

So, Paul says, “do not worry.” Jesus and angels constantly say, “do not be afraid.” Yet, I am fearful for this generation of youth. Of course, there are wonderful kids and parents; not all computer and screen use is bad, and not all are addicted to smart phones. But the statistics are concerning for many kids worldwide. We want this next generation to flourish, and I truly believe they need God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit to do that. They need a faith community for support. It’s helpful to be aware of our competition for our message. What is good news to us is “meh” to many. I wish I had an answer. Meanwhile, I will try not to be anxious; try not to worry, and pray, pray, pray.

The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit. Amen.
Philippians 4:23

By Rev. Aaron Fuller
Originally published in Living Lutheran

For Asian Pacific Islander Heritage Month (API), I was asked to reflect on “Asians in the Bible.” I wish to focus on two characters who best represent the experience of API people: Hagar and Ishmael (Genesis 16 and 21:8-21).

Hagar is Sarah’s slave. She was given to Abraham to breed a male heir since Sarai was barren. This was successful, and Hagar became pregnant and produced a boy, Ishmael. This news traps Hagar and Ishmael in a cycle of being exiled to the wilderness and accepted back into Abraham’s house, a result of Sarah feeling threatened by them and Abraham’s indifference. Ultimately, Hagar and Ishmael were banished to the wilderness, discarded and never seen again.

Korean American theologian Grace Ji-Sun Kim writes, “Invisibility persists throughout the [API] story. Occupying a vague social status, APIs have long been perceived as a deferential foreigner, an individual with economic significance who exercises their inherent diligence in academic and professional spaces but possesses little social importance. As a result, Asian Americans are widely excluded from mainstream discussions of race in this country … and thus remain in an unstable state where they can be designated as good or bad depending on political tempers …” (Invisible: Theology and the Experience of Asian American Women; Fortress Press, 2021).

Invisibility is the experience of APIs in society and the ELCA. According to the 2020 U.S. Census, APIs comprise 8% of the total U.S. population, a 35% increase from the previous census. Yet, APIs are severely underrepresented in the most visible spaces of society.  According to a 2021 study, despite APIs representing the second largest demographic across STEM career fields, they fall behind four major ethnic groups in midlevel and executive leadership positions. Within the ELCA, APIs account for less than 1% of its active membership and congregations. They are less visible among ELCA rostered ministers, representing about 2%, and no API leader has served on the Conference of Bishops in the ELCA’s 37-year history. These statistics reinforce the stigma that APIs are an invisible and “statistically insignificant” presence within society and the church.

As a result, APIs are often labeled as “model minorities” who are welcomed when their presence benefits the dominant structures of society and the church but are quickly discarded when they no longer provide value. As model minorities, they are also marginalized in conversations about race. API racism is softened in language to “Asian hate” in mainstream media and receives less attention compared to other racial groups.  While ELCA API leaders organized a “first of its kind” celebration last year, this is an exception rather than the norm, as API invisibility persists at all levels of society and the church.

I do not share these statistics and realities to shame or blame anyone. Invisibility is how APIs experience racism in society and the church. Imposing and perpetuating invisibility on us leads to abuse, hostility and exile. We find ourselves “betwixt and between,” constantly struggling with the fact that we are “both invisible and necessary to culture,” Kim writes. Like Hagar and Ishmael, accepting our invisibility is easier than speaking out against it. We try to fit in despite knowing we don’t. We return to spaces of marginalization despite the pain caused by living in them. At the same time, API invisibility calls us to crucial spiritual work, challenging our motivations as Christians within society and the church who work for racial justice. Are we equitable in our efforts to celebrate and raise concerns for all marginalized people, or is it to increase numerical and financial growth and improve the institution’s reputation? Does our cause for racial justice come at the cost of exploiting, commodifying and creating competition between the very people we advocate for?  We recognize, along with Kim, that “when we think about [APIs] as marginalized people, we recognize power imbalance and the need to give them their agency.”

API invisibility reveals that the sin of racism creates a war within all of us, whether marginalized or privileged. We resist doing and saying what we know to be morally right, despite knowing that Christ calls us and that we must. Not wanting to expose this internal battle, we all choose invisibility. It becomes easier to justify our current efforts rather than confess their inadequacy, their potential harm, and choose a better path. Yet, I dare to speak on behalf of all API to say there is hope. Hagar and Ishmael’s story does not end in invisibility. She proclaims: “You are the God who sees me. … I have now seen the One who sees me” (Genesis 16:13; New International Version). As APIs, we do not lose heart in the struggle for racial justice. Like Hagar and Ishmael, God makes us visible, giving us the moral courage to be visible and to lead a ministry of truly seeing others as God does!

Aaron Fuller (he/him) is a transracial adoptee. He currently serves as pastor of Bratislava (Slovakia) International Church and chaplain (commander) in the U.S. Navy Reserve, representing the ELCA, and is rostered in the Minneapolis Area Synod.  

This post is one of the monthly posts blog posts written by the deans of the conferences of the Minneapolis Area Synod. 

By Pastor Ian Coen-Frei
Dean of the North Minneapolis Conference
Pastor at Gustavus Adolphus Lutheran Church, Minneapolis

Updated blog coming soon. In the meantime, check out BOLD’s website to learn more about their ministry. 

By Dr. Kelly Sherman-Conroy
Associate Pastor, All Nations Indian Church 

I stood alongside our youth and my friend and colleague, Brenda, at our Synod Assembly, to speak from the deep ache of our Native community. It wasn’t about statistics; it was about longing to be a whole Body of Christ. I talked about Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls. I didn’t just offer words; I offered ceremony. For me, that moment at the microphone was Eucharist. I shared what Eucharist means in my Lakota tradition. It is not just bread and wine. It is not confined to a church service or to a single moment. It is ceremony. It is relationship. It is the act of bringing someone back into the circle and making them present again through love, memory, and connection. 

Eucharist in my Lakota way is about wholeness. Eucharist is what we do when we gather in prayer, when we remember those we’ve lost, and when we act in ways that restore balance and justice. It is a lived expression of kinship. The Eucharist says, “You are not forgotten. You still belong here.” 

When I was offering ceremony at the microphone, I said that Native women make up less than one percent of Minnesota’s population, yet Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls account for eight percent of all missing women and girls in our state. That statistic is not just shocking; it is heartbreaking. Our missing beloveds and the statistics tell us what so many in our communities already know. Our lives are not treated with the same care.  

After my offering, someone stood up and questioned why Native women were being centered.  

That moment hurt. But what hurt more was what came next. 

Nothing. 

No one stood up. No one spoke out. There wasn’t a single voice of outcry from the memorial’s signers. Not one pastor stepped in. Not one friend said at that moment, “That isn’t right.” I stood there with my heart pounding, wondering if anyone would see what was unfolding. The silence became louder than the question itself. It felt like my grief was being asked to stand alone, to be put on display and be objectified. I kept scanning the room, hoping someone would meet my eyes, hoping someone in a room filled with friends and colleagues would speak to honor the ceremony I offered to the Assembly. But no one did. 

It has taken me days to name that pain of isolation and loneliness. Not just because of what was questioned, but because of who stayed quiet. The silence was heavy. It spoke its own message. 

Silence can communicate so much, depending upon context. There is a kind of silence that is sacred. The kind that holds space for grief, for the presence of God, for deep listening. There is also a kind of silence that wounds. The silence happens when truth is spoken into a space, and no one stands beside it and affirms it. There is a silence that happens when an act of harm is on public display, and no one interrupts. That kind of silence is not reverent; it is complicit in harm. 

This is not about blame. It’s about what silence communicates. 

When no one speaks up, silence reinforces the very invisibility I just named. It tells us that our stories are too uncomfortable, and that people seek comfort in silence at the expense of a beloved sibling. Our grief is too political. Our presence is too much. Silence leaves the weight of the moment on the shoulders of the already burdened. 

What I needed in that moment wasn’t a flawless response. I just needed someone to say, “I see you. I’m here.” I needed someone to share the weight. 

We talk about being the body of Christ. Paul writes, “If one member suffers, all suffer together.” That isn’t just a comforting idea. It’s a call to live differently. To listen actively. To step in when the moment is hard and the silence starts to close in. 

When we talk about Eucharist from a Lakota perspective, we are talking about a way of being. It is not a once-a-week ritual. It is how we hold memory in our bones and live it through embodied action. It is how we bring our relatives close through prayer, ceremony, and justice. It is how we say with our whole lives, “You are not alone.” 

Eucharist is an embodiment of justice. In both the Christian and Lakota traditions, it is not only something we remember, but also something we do. When Jesus said, “Do this in remembrance of me,” he was not asking for performance. He was inviting us into practice. Remembrance is not passive. It is love that moves and does. Justice takes shape in that practice. In my Lakota tradition, Eucharist is how we bring healing to what has been broken and belonging to those who have been pushed aside. 

If we want to be a Church that truly remembers, then we must be a Church that responds, that shows up and speaks when others hesitate. That is Eucharist. 

The Memorial mentioned in this blog post is RC2025 06 Memorial: Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women (MMIW). The Memorial was adopted and will be brought to the ELCA Churchwide Assembly in July 2025.

This post continues the Mission Table’s “Year of Partnership” highlighting the new and strategic ministries of the Minneapolis Area Synod. Minnesota Swahili Christian Church is one of the strategic ministries and worships in South Minneapolis.

By Lulu Semakula
Lulu is a high school senior at Irondale High School in Mounds View. She will be heading to Colorado to join the Airforce Academy next year.

The room is alive with color, music, and the warmth of community. Dressed in vibrant fabrics and glowing with joy, men and women (young and old) gather for what’s become the most anticipated event of our year—the annual Swahili Church Women’s Gala. It’s more than a celebration—it’s a statement of who we are and who we’ve become.

The Women’s Ministry at Swahili Church has grown in ways we never imagined. What started as a small circle of prayer and support has transformed into the strongest and most active ministry in our congregation. The women truly lead, serve, and show up. And through it all, they’ve created a space where women are empowered to connect, grow in their faith, support one another, and spread Good News to “their neighbors”.

Fundraising is crucial for our Swahili Women’s Ministry. Through annual individual financial contribution commitment and the funds obtained from selling gala tickets, the Ministry provides support for women facing pregnancy and health related challenges, general health issues, the loss of loved ones, and most importantly –offering both emotional and physical help (feeding the sick or care of children, etc.). The amount of support and care this group has for one another is priceless – considering many of us do not have blood-tied family members within the country limits.

By far, besides remaining the most vital fundraising event of the year, the Gala is the coolest and the most fun event. It is the heartbeat of the Swahili ministry. It’s a doorway to the community. It is the Swahili way we welcome others into our community: all genders, young and old adults – with open arms. Just as we all prepare our homes for guests, the Swahili Women work hard to make everything just right, from the food and music, to the decorations and conversation and sometimes traditional dances by several aunties. It’s the community’s way of saying, “Karibu! (Welcome!). Come in and let’s connect and have a good time together.”

On a personal note, it is an honor to share this fun part of my congregation. At the Gala, we dance, we eat, we laugh—and in the process, we build deeper relationships that stretch across generations and cultures. The Gala, and the ministry behind it, is a bridge between our African roots and the American lives we’re building. It’s a way of holding both identities with pride, honoring our past while embracing our future.

If you’ve never joined us before, this is your invitation. Come experience the joy, the sisterhood, and the powerful spirit that fills the room. Come be part of something beautiful on Saturday, May 3, at the Mounds View Community Center.

You’re invited: 

By Pastor Neal Cannon, Woodlake Lutheran Church, Richfield
Pastor Neal is co-pastor with Pastor Micah Pearson, who is the Dean of the Crosstown Conference 

These days, it’s hard for many churches to do youth ministry on their own. Most of us see it in our pews, as fewer and fewer families regularly attend worship. If you have a small-to-medium-sized church it’s not uncommon to have only two or three families you can count on to be in attendance most Sundays, if any. Maybe you’ve tried to host a “pizza and game night” for teens, but only a few kids show up. You’re excited for those kids to be there, but it’s hard to create and sustain energy for a program this size. You might feel frustrated and the kids might lose interest because there aren’t enough other kids there. It’s a lose-lose situation.

Woodlake and House of Prayer were two churches struggling to do youth ministry on our own until one day we asked, what if we did this together? The result of this wondering was RALY (Richfield Area Lutheran Youth). RALY is a shared youth group between our two churches that has created meaningful vitality for our youth and congregations. On our own, we couldn’t sustain Wednesday evening activities, do high school youth group, or host a lock-in. But together we are able sustain and grow programs and activities. Together, we were able to create an environment where kids wanted to come and invite their friends. After combining our programs, we went from lose-lose to win-win very quickly.

The Bible is not shy about encouraging collaboration.  Be it Matthew 18:20 (where two or more are gathered in my name…) or Mark 6:7 (He called them twelve and began to send them out two by two…) or Genesis 2:18 (It is not good that the man should be alone…) we are often encouraged to do life and ministry together. These lessons are often applied to the individual, but why shouldn’t it be applied to our churches as well? As the cultural landscape continues to evolve, our best chance at doing meaningful youth ministry might be by doing it together.

Who could you collaborate with? Is there another church in your area in a similar situation with similar struggles? Could you work together and dream about building something bigger than you could have dreamed up on your own? If you can find a partner to do ministry together, I encourage you to try it! Or, if you’re in the Richfield area, come talk to us about RALY. We’d love to share ministry with you!

You can learn even more about RALY by watching this video.

This post continues the Mission Table’s “Year of Partnership” highlighting the new and strategic ministries of the Minneapolis Area Synod. St. Paul’s-San Pablo is one of the strategic ministries and worships in South Minneapolis.

By Pastor Hierald Osorto

Soft lighting and soothing music create an ambience of calm. A circle of massage tables and zero-gravity chairs awaits their occupants. Over the next several hours, practitioners will offer individuals free sessions of acupuncture, reiki, or cupping therapy. This Sunday afternoon, the historic sanctuary of St. Paul’s-San Pablo Lutheran Church has been transformed into a haven of respite and well-being.

Sanctuary: It’s not just a place where we gather, but we who are St. Paul’s-San Pablo. As a multilingual, multicultural, inclusive congregation, we strive to create spaces of belonging and welcome in South Minneapolis. That’s why we host the Phillips Neighborhood Clinic, where University of Minnesota medical students care for our underinsured neighbors. That’s why we founded the Semilla Center for Healing and the Arts, a non-profit that encourages creative expression in youth and young adults. For 137 years, this church—founded by Swedish immigrants—has accompanied people willing to cross borders and overcome barriers to make a better life in this country. By the grace of God, we’re not stopping now.

In recent months, St. Paul’s-San Pablo has been discerning how to be a sanctuary in this anti-immigrant political climate. If you had asked me a year ago whether that would look like offering complementary, traditional medicine once a month, I’m sure I would have raised a skeptical eyebrow. Today, I am a grateful witness to Christ’s healing ministry, embodied in gentle hands and practices that ease the immense stress weighing on under-documented immigrants. I have seen how relaxed individuals looked after rising from their massage table or zero-gravity chair: as if they had exhaled after a long-held breath.

Yes, we partner with immigration attorneys. Yes, we educate ourselves about our legal rights. But no, we refuse to let fear course freely through our bodies and corrode our well-being. We are a sanctuary for the whole person, because the Holy One loves each person wholly and without exception. This is God’s call to us, which we are answering with energy and enthusiasm. If the Spirit is also stirring in your heart, come and join us. Come plant native flowers for our healing garden. Come dance at our summer block party. Come be sanctuary with us in these uncertain times and rest in the healing love of God.