At Lord of Life, we open each of our weekly staff meetings with a devotion. This week, office manager Cara read the first sentence of the devotional she chose, “In spirituality, there are basically two paths, what I’ve called the path of the fall and the path of the return.” When “fall and return” appeared as a dichotomy, my mind drifted away from the author’s purpose, though it was a good one, and I wondered, “What does it mean to think of salvation as a return?”

Typically, we think of salvation as an arrival; “we have reached the top of the spiritual hierarchy.” Eternal life in our lives, or the life of the world to come, is reaching somewhere or something we previously did not have. But this narrative ignores our creation story that we often label as “The Great Fall,” that is, the story of Adam and Eve picking and eating the forbidden fruit. Allegorically, this story serves as an explanation for who we are as human beings - people created in the image of God, yet, “fallen” as imperfect people in an imperfect world.

This theme of fallen and returned is in play throughout scripture. The prodigal son does not arrive at his father’s house, meeting his dad for the first time. Rather, he returns to where he was raised. The shepherd does not leave the ninety-nine sheep to go after one that doesn’t belong to him. Rather, he goes out to claim the sheep that is rightfully his. When the lost sheep is found, it is a returning moment.

In the philosophically rich show The Good Place - a comical NBC series mostly taking place in the after-life, Chidi explains life and death,

Picture a wave in the ocean. You can see it, measure it, its height, the way the sunlight refracts when it passes through. And it's there. And you can see it; you know what it is. It's a wave.

And then it crashes on the shore and it's gone. But the water is still there. The wave was just a different way for the water to be, for a little while. You know it's one conception of death: the wave returns to the ocean, where it came from and where it's supposed to be.

This concept echoes the reality of what it means to be Christian in our current lives. Matthew 16:25 reads, “For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” As Christians, we confess that out of death comes resurrection, and out of dying to oneself comes new life. Just as a wave dies and returns to the ocean, by dying to oneself we return to God.

So what would it look like if we embraced salvation as a return? How would we feel if our baptismal liturgy said, “By the power of the Holy Spirit, you are returned to our Heavenly Father, baptized in Christ?” If we were to think of repentance as returning to God - thus, not simply turning - we would confess like the prodigal son, that God’s righteousness is our home, not our straying ways.

We are fallen like Adam and Eve, lost like the missing sheep, astray like the prodigal son, but by the grace of God, as a wave returns to the ocean, God has returned us to Godself, the One who claims us, forgives us, and renews us.

Your sibling in Christ,

Pastor Alec Brock, Seminary Intern (he/his)

“Having light we pass it on to others.” You can’t walk around Wittenberg University in Springfield, OH without learning this, the school’s motto. It is pressed in the massive bronze seal in the center of campus and etched in glass on entryway doors. The passing of the torch graphic is imprinted on letterhead and illuminated in the stained glass windows of Weaver Chapel. Light pole banners, campus activity posters, and Witt merchandise all feature the campus mantra. “Having light we pass it on to others” dominates the landscape of this liberal arts university.

A little history. “The university was created by a group of pastors who broke with the German church and created the English Evangelical Lutheran Synod of Ohio. They believed that the English language was a way to foster the inclusiveness of the new American nation. In 1842, the new synod voted unanimously to establish a theological and literary institution that would serve the educational and cultural needs of new immigrants and new communities.” (www.wittenberg.edu). From the beginning, Wittenberg was a beacon of hope!

But this motto is more than only a catchphrase from the early years of this institution. It is a mission statement that continues to propel people into transformative learning and growth, and then out into the world to make a difference.

When I was a student at Wittenberg, I couldn’t help but read the motto through my own Christian lens. Sharing the light of Christ is at the heart of our journey. During these undergraduate years, you are given the opportunity to huddle on campus and in the community to learn and grow in the things that you already love and enjoy, but also to wonder, stretch, explore, and invest beyond your comfort zone. It is an invitation to follow the lead of the Holy Spirit as you learn more about yourself, the needs of the world, and how God is calling you to offer your wonderful and unique self to love and serve. “Having light we pass it on to others” was not only about caring for one another and life together on campus, but also a paradigm for life.

That’s what we’re up to it Lord Of Life, too. We gather as a community of Christian faith to be encouraged and fueled up, and then take the light of Christ out into every corner of our diverse lives. Our mission statement helps focus our energies to “live, share, and celebrate with all people, God’s love in Jesus Christ.” This isn’t a little club motto for us to hide behind, but a marching mandate as we love and serve God and neighbor.

We are light-bearers here and now. We even named our capital campaign “Share the Light.” Now is the time for us to live deeper into relationships, stand with people in moments of joy and sorrow, celebration and loss. How that happens looks different for each of us, as we radiate hope, healing, and encouragement to the world.

Now is also the time for us to share more generously, as we carve out extra time to be a mentor, tutor, listening ear, or helping hand. It is also about sharing our gifts, whether it be in leadership, finances, an encouraging word, or otherwise.

And now is certainly the time for celebration! Not only a happy, party kind of celebration as vaccines roll out, but marking milestones and immersing friends, neighbors, and strangers in the promises of God.

This is a time for us to radiate the brilliant love and light of Jesus Christ in the world. We may still be in the final days of winter, in the middle of Lent, but Easter promises are on the horizon. We love, because God first loved us! (1 John 4:19)

Sharing the light of Christ,

Pastor Lowell

If you’re around me enough you’ll soon realize that I love hot weather and I hate the cold. I hate wearing closed-toe shoes and bundling up. Being sensitive to the cold, I start bundling up in the fall. Meanwhile, I enjoy the heat of summer as temperatures hit eighty degrees. And I do not simply enjoy summer; I’m a better me as my spirit is renewed after the long and dreary winter season.  

Yesterday, as I was getting ready for work, I grabbed socks out of my sock drawer, and then I wondered, “Is this necessary?” As a groundhog measures the length of winter, could I wear sandals today as a means to reign in the end of winter and the beginning of Spring? Is today the day the glorious trumpets of Heaven ring their horns and winter has no power over me? I thought to myself, “I will make those horns blow and wear my sandals!”

It is no coincidence that we celebrate the resurrection of Christ in the spring. Easter is celebrated as flowers begin to bloom, leaves begin to grow, and socks begin their annual sabbatical. Spring shows that resurrection is not simply for Jesus, but is part of how God works, as the promise of resurrection from death to life is shown to us in every spring. As Martin Luther would say, “Our Lord has written the promise of resurrection, not in books alone, but in every leaf in springtime.”

Resurrection, from death to life is written in the order of the cosmos. Just as God cast a rainbow in the sky as a reminder in the book of Exodus, God reminds us that we do rebound from our low points. While we are coming to the end of the pandemic, I cannot help but think of it as part of God’s natural order of things. Out of pain and tribulation, we are entering a “new normal” as grandparents are able to hug their loved ones again, small businesses are able to slowly open up, and Lord of Life Lutheran will be having three outdoor Easter services if the weather cooperates. 

Though we are not at the end of this pandemic, in my job as a pastor I get to see or hear about resurrection nearly every day, as I learn about a new parishioner that is vaccinated, or a parishioner relaxedly visiting a friend. As I wait for my turn in the vaccine line, I get to have small moments of joy as other’s happiness radiates through them. 

Spring is here, resurrection is in our midst, and soon the stone will be rolled away and the pandemic will be spoken of with “was” and not “is.”

Witnessing Resurrection,

Pastoral Intern Alec Brock (he/him)

I was four or five years old when my parents woke me up from a nap to tell me they had a surprise for me. I remember wiping the sleep from my eyes and watching the door open to see that my grandpa had visited from Florida, and he had brought me a puppy. His name was Max. Max was my own to love and take care of. He was one of the first gifts I remember receiving; truly one of my first vivid memories. 

There are a lot of cliches about a boy and his dog - I was probably an unwitting poster child. But more than that, Max was a connection to my grandpa, whom I only saw once every year or two because of the geographical distance between us. Max died just a few years before my grandpa did, and I remember feeling like a little bit of my grandpa was slipping away.

A few weeks ago, we were getting ready to host families for Family Promise and Lauri Vesper, one of our Family Promise coordinators, called me with a very specific need for an incoming family. The father died recently, and the now-widowed mother of two found herself unable to afford their home on her own. The children stayed with various friends while the mom slept in her car with their dog.

Family Promise was going to be their pathway to living together as a family again, but there was a catch: since families are moving from church to church each week, there is no way to accommodate a dog. Lauri asked if I might be able to foster the dog for a while until the family got through the program.

As Lauri recounted their story to me, my heart was already in my throat before she dropped one final detail: the dog had been a gift from the kids’ dad before he died.

So of course I wanted to do anything I could, which at a minimum meant fostering the dog until the family was in a home that allowed pets. In addition, if the dog had any medical needs or just needed updated shots, I would have been happy to accommodate that.

In the end, Family Promise was able to use a grant to bring this family back together in a house and they were able to keep their dog with them. Their situation worked out, but I know there are so many other unique stories with needs to satisfy before they can begin to get the help they need.

I continue to be grateful for the opportunity to serve in a place where we aren’t afraid to seek out ways to give people a leg up into a better life and meet both their physical and human needs.

Yours in Christ,

John

Dave Mackey and I talk about music often. If you don’t know him, Dave is a drummer at Lord of Life who is also a voracious consumer of music. We regularly chat about new releases, old favorites, and share memories as we mourn the recent loss of a legend. You can find us musing on social media, in texts, after worship moments, and – pre-COVID – in our living rooms and area concert venues.

Since there aren’t any live shows to attend right now, we’ve been exchanging some of our favorite jazz albums over the last few months. Each Sunday, we swap a handful of vinyl beauties and gush about the new discoveries.

A week or so before Ash Wednesday, Dave invited me to his car after online worship. Before opening the trunk, he said “I want this to be your Lenten discipline, this year. Drink deep from the well of jazz.” With that, he popped the back of his car and revealed a plastic crate filled with more than sixty 12” vintage platters of goodness, including names like Miles, Jaco, Coltrane, Cobham, Shorter, Hutcherson, Hancock, Adderley, Lateef, Fitzgerald, and more. Woah! I was thrilled to jump into this Lenten discipline! It was just what I needed.

Growing up, my family observed the forty days of Lent and attended midweek worship, but I don’t remember it as a season of sacrifice and giving up stuff. We still snacked on chocolate and drank caffeine. I also don’t recall being encouraged to add some kind of discipline, kindness, or service to my daily rhythm for those weeks leading up to Holy Week.

For some reason, when we hear the Lenten admonition to “return to the Lord your God, for God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love” from Joel 2:13, we often associate it with solemnity and sacrifice. We assume that reorienting ourselves to God will be a joyless burden. I get it. There is a long and rich tradition in the church of using this season leading up to Easter for fasting and repentance. But there’s more.

Over the last eight months, a small group at Lord of Life has been intentionally talking about race. Little by little, we’ve been excavating our biases and assumptions, even as we confront the lasting trauma, inequities, and despair of racism. We’ve delved into slavery, reparations, incarceration, redlining, voter suppression, and many other components which continue to fuel systemic racism. Returning to these subjects over and over remind us that we have much work to do. But there’s hope. Courageous and innovative leaders are leading us into new territory of repentance, reconciliation, and renewal.

As we wrap up this February, when many have added some reading or listening of Black History to their daily rhythms, let it not end here. There are plenty of opportunities at Lord of Life and beyond to learn and grow. Like a good jazz record leads us to new ways of thinking and listening, may the Spirit of God continue to stretch us into fresh perspectives and daring conversations.

Still learning to love God and my neighbor,

Pastor Lowell

Traditions and rituals are such a blessing to have in the church. Typically, in the life of the church, we mark traditions with “holy days” - Ash Wednesday, Good Friday, etc. Growing up, I only observed two holy days within the life of the church - Christmas and Easter. However, when I joined the Episcopal campus ministry during my undergrad, I quickly fell in love with the plethora of holy days that there were to observe.

These days were not simply reasons to throw a party but served as a means to contemplate life and faith as a collective Christian community. And as holy days are wrapped with traditions and rituals, they gain not only importance for the life of the church, but importance in our own personal lives. I had a run-in with the personal importance of tradition as the snow thickened outside my living room window and “Fat Tuesday” was approaching.

Every year, for Fat Tuesday I buy a king cake and invite friends over for drinks, light conversation, and most importantly - cake. Fat Tuesday serves as an opportunity to indulge for the next day, Ash Wednesday, will mark the beginning of a fasting season. While we are reminded of our mortality on Wednesday, the day prior, Fat Tuesday, serves as a day of indulging in the blessings of life.

However, Fat Tuesday is different this year. For churches that usually observe Fat Tuesday, there won’t be pancake suppers in the fellowship hall. There will likely be a lot fewer gatherings of people to indulge in life the day before Lent. For me, my friends are in Louisville, KY and I am in West Chester, OH.

Earlier today, I braved the snow and drove across West Chester to buy a king cake. In the process, I got my car stuck in the snow as my apartment’s parking lot is not fully plowed. Someone had to push me out. Observing Fat Tuesday will be in isolation, in comparison to my usual church pancake supper and the hosting of friends. But I am keeping the tradition as much as I can because it is a dear one to have.

As we begin Lent, our means of observing the season - Ash Wednesday, Palm Sunday, and all of Holy Week leading up to Easter - will be different. Instead of a procession of people at in-person worship coming to the chancel to receive ashes, the imposition of ashes will be carried out via drive-thru, and others imposing their own ashes at home. That is merely one example. It may feel incomplete as it is a deviation from the norm, and may feel less communal. Yet, there is so much value in continuing these traditions as they are a means to communally discern our world, and carry personal value for ourselves.

I will be cutting my king cake tonight, and I look forward to beginning this odd Lenten journey with you, as we begin this season of rituals and traditions in new innovative ways. Though we are apart in the physical sense, with Christ among us we are innovating tradition together.

Your Sibling in Christ,

Pastor Alec Brock (he/him/his)
Seminary Intern