I recently went to Duke Divinity School in North Carolina for some continuing education. Well, I didn’t really go to Duke, but joined in a virtual conversation for their annual Fall Pastor’s Convocation series offered for pastors across the country.

The Dean of Duke Divinity, L. Gregory Jones, addressing the webinar, explored “Navigating the Future in the Midst of a Heavy Fog.” Jones contends that we are currently experiencing four overlapping pandemics: COVID, racial injustice and systemic racism, economic disruption, and a mental health crisis. Any of these on their own have the ability to trigger massive anxiety and disruption, but the compounding realities at the intersection of these issues creates a deep unease within ourselves, our families, our churches, communities, and the world. Jones compared the looming chaos and unpredictability to a heavy fog.

I don’t know how you drive in heavy fog, but I’m overly cautious. Even on the roads of Butler County, which might be familiar to me and well-traveled in my daily life, I move forward with hyper-attentiveness and restraint, trying to anticipate what might emerge from the mist. What’s ahead? When do I need to slow down or turn? Each of these are difficult to comprehend when not able to look ahead with clarity.

Throughout the biblical narratives, people often met God in cloudy and foggy moments. A fog was lifted from eyes and hearts. God spoke from the cloud and the Spirit descended. Jesus was shrouded in haze on the mountaintop during the Transfiguration and the Israelites were led by a pillar of cloud and fire through the wilderness wanderings.

We don’t know what the coming months hold, but we trust that God will meet us in the fog of our lives and bring transparency. The One who has been faithful throughout all of history, will continue to guide us. As we move through the clouds of this season, we are planning with clarity for the future.

Looking at our 2021 Mission Spending Plan, you will notice that we have some new additions. Our congregational and community needs continue to grow, so we are proposing new staffing positions to help us grow in faith, first, adding a Director of Faith Formation. This person will devote attention and energy to engaging and equipping people of all ages with tools and opportunities for deepening their discipleship, by inviting them into transformational learning and serving moments.

We also hope to round out our digital strategy by hiring a part-time Digital Ministry Coordinator to help Lord of Life sustain high quality online worship and faith formation experiences, while also supplementing and enhancing our in-person experiences. As we have seen during the pandemic, the way we worship has changed and has allowed us to remain connected while socially-distant and reach people that previously were not attending in-person worship.

What a gift it is to not be in the fog alone. God promises to be with us and, to sweeten the deal even more, God gives us traveling companions who encourage us and walk boldly into the future with us.

Navigating together,

Pastor Lowell

As you all can imagine, as a Louisville native, my eyes have been glued to television news since the Kentucky Attorney General announced that though there are three charges of wanton endangerment for one officer who blindly fired his bullets through the walls and into an adjacent apartment, there will be no charges for the killing of Breonna Taylor. Protests quickly ensued around the city, and even around the country. I sat on my couch as I saw a seminarian classmate march on my living room television. I scrolled through my Facebook newsfeed, seeing videos and updates from people on the ground. And I wish I was there with them. 

Weeks before moving to West Chester, I was protesting in downtown Louisville because of Breonna Taylor’s death. And though I protested for racial justice and criminal justice reform, I also assumed that based on the letter of the law, there would be no charges for the officers who killed Breonna Taylor. At least, not any murder charges. In my reasoning, Breonna Taylor’s death could not simply be blamed on three officers. Instead, it was due to a flawed system that ordered a wrongful no-knock warrant at the wrong location, for someone already in police custody. The right to self-defense (arguably reckless self-defense) in response to another exercising their right to “stand your ground” caused six bullets to hit Breonna Taylor, who was simply there. Not shooting. Just being in her apartment. 

Yet, I still felt sorrow hearing there would be no charges. Sorrow because prosecuting a system, and not a person, does not feel like real justice. What recompense is there when the perpetrator is a system issuing a poor order? Reforms are restorative, and for them I am thankful, but how do they bring justice for what has been done? Though I understand the lack of murder charges, there is a large hole in need to be filled. In regards to this case, even when the justice system issues a reasonable verdict according to the letter of the law, justice is not served.

As you can see, I am perplexed. On one hand, I understand the reasoning of the jury and Kentucky’s attorney general. And on the other, I am mad because Breonna Taylor was wrongfully murdered and there is a lack of justice. I wish I was marching in Louisville, as I want justice to roll down like waters (Amos 5:24), yet, for Breonna, I am unsure what that looks like. 

You’re probably wondering why I am telling you about my wrestling. I want you to sit with me in my unresolved thoughts. I want you to understand what seems to be a loop of the same thoughts. They have kept me up to 2 am, typing this. And I want you to welcome it. As Christians, we do not have the luxury of complacency in moments of injustice. In a case like this, we have to sit with complexities. We have to feel sympathy for the oppressed. It is easy to accept that it is a nuanced issue, thus, not needed to be touched. But that is not what we are called to do. 

Right now I feel inadequate for my lack of firm positioning. Because of my ongoing questioning, I am not fully sure what exactly God calls me to say at this moment. But I know words are necessary, and silence in moments of injustice is violence. Thus, I must sit with this troubling reality. And you’re not off the hook, either. We’re in this uneasy time together.

God has something to say. Your reflection upon Breonna Taylor’s death or race relations may be different from my own. Perhaps you think justice was served. Perhaps you think there should have been murder charges. Nonetheless, we cannot ignore the reality. Theologian Karl Barth, pastor during World War I, frequently preached on the privilege of living in “a unique time of God.” We are in a unique time as we are placed in our time to be witnesses of God’s justice. Privileged to carry-on the fight of the civil rights movement. Privileged to provide the healing words of the gospel to a broken world. Though it may feel burdening, we are privileged to be in God’s redemptive work. And sometimes, the discernment to answer God’s call is not crystal clear. Now may be one of those moments, yet, now is not a time to look away; it is a time to be uneased. 

Still Wrestling,

Pastor Alec Brock

(he, him, his)

Five months ago, Jennie Gruber and other gardeners put seeds in the ground on our property in hopes that they would become carrots, tomatoes, zucchinis, and other varieties of delicious veggies. It worked! All summer long, volunteers picked, packaged, and delivered fresh produce to local families in need. Back in the spring, we couldn’t be absolutely sure what would happen, but the holes were dug and the seeds were nestled down in the soil in hopes the harvest would come.

This past Sunday, a handful of people trimmed bushes and spread mulch around the playground at Union Elementary School. We don’t know if the children will be able to enjoy that area all year long or just for a few more weeks – it all depends on what COVID does – but that didn’t stop us. We cleaned up and beautified that space trusting that our efforts would not only visually enhance the space, but also make that area more conducive to play and would encourage little ones and their encounters with creation.

People of Christian faith are future-focused people. We aren’t ever certain what the immediate future holds, but that doesn’t stop us from leaning into the coming days with hope. This orientation doesn’t make us oblivious to the realities around us and we certainly don’t ignore the pain and suffering that plagues people and communities. We also don’t diminish the mountaintop joys and thrills of the here and now. Life is filled with both. We dwell in both the already, but not yet. We are fully present right here, right now, and also have our eye on the horizon for something that’s coming our way.

Last time I visited my mom, I noticed that she had a new wall hanging in her kitchen. “Not to spoil the ending, but everything is going to be OK.” God promises to be with us on the highs and lows of our journey throughout life, as well as a future of full restoration, healing, and complete peace—shalom. God promises us that there will be a day when the lion and the lamb will lay down together (Isaiah 11), tears will be wiped from our eyes (Revelation 21), and death will be turned to life (Romans 6). Echoing the biblical voices, Bob Marley sings, “Don’t worry about a thing, ‘cause every little thing is gonna be alright.”

We’re going to be talking about the future a lot this year. What will ministry and life look like in the season of COVID and beyond? What will our moments of worship, learning, and serving look like as we adjust to the new rhythms and regulations of our life together? As we dream and look ahead, what has this season of quarantine and isolation taught us about ourselves and about God? How can we live into the future as one in Christ, when we live in a polarized society and envision things in a variety of ways? Do our differences pull us in opposite directions or merge us together, forging even stronger bonds with one another for a shared purpose in loving and serving God and our neighbors in need?

Everything before us is God’s loving work. The Spirit of God stirs our hearts and minds, moves our hands our feet, and puts us in motion for mission. We can’t help but live, share, and celebrate right where we are.

Looking forward to all that is ahead,

Pastor Lowell

Before attending seminary, whenever I opened my Bible, I hung out mostly in the Gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John; because that was where Jesus hung out as well. But after a slew of Bible classes, I realized the beauty and depth of all of the sacred Scriptures, and I found myself spending more and more time in the book of Acts. Not because it is the sexiest book in the Bible, that is probably Song of Solomon. Not because it is the most cinematic, that would be Ruth or Esther. I like the book of Acts because I can see myself as a character in those narratives; it seems the most “real” to me.

The book of Acts is thought to be the “sequel” to the Gospel of Luke. And like most movie sequels, at first viewing, it seems like it doesn’t live up to the original. The main hero, Jesus, is gone and the supporting actors are trying to carry the entire plot by themselves by going on a giant road trip. But the more you view it, the more of a cult classic that it becomes, because you start to fall in love with the characters, not necessarily the plot. You begin to see yourself in the apostles, who are doing their best in a hostile world, without the immediate guidance of Jesus. There are definitely times in my life where I wish I was back in the book of Luke and had Jesus there to walk alongside me, but I realize I am firmly planted in the book of Acts, the time of waiting for Jesus to come again.

Throughout Acts we see regular people, trying to survive, and trying to spread the message of Jesus. They aren’t the superheroes, they are doing regular things. They gather together to teach, break bread, help people, and even get thrown in jail. They are so real that in one story that we hear about a person who is listening to Paul’s super long sermon (can you relate?), falls asleep, falls out a three-story window, and dies (Acts 20). This is us… We are the continuation of the book of Acts. We are the church of Jesus, the hands and feet of Christ, trying our best to survive in the world, spread the message of Christ, and not fall out of windows during long sermons.

All of the above thoughts have been floating around in my head recently while planning for my ordination service, which is where I was called as a Minister of Word and Sacrament in the ELCA. As I was inviting people to be readers and participants in my service, I was reminded of all the ordinary people, modern-day disciples, that influenced me in my faith. It ties all the way back to the beginning of time, the beginning of our Bible, through the book of Acts, and more tangibly, the people who have shown me the love and grace of Jesus Christ. While I couldn’t invite all of the members of Lord of Life to be part of my ordination service, know over the past tens years that we have been members here, and especially during the last two years when I have served as your intern pastor, know that you have shown the light of Christ to me and my family. You have been those disciples to me!

But the story does not end here. Just like the apostles equipped people to spread the message of Jesus in the book of Acts, we have done that together at Lord of Life. I am now off on my own road trip, to Resurrection Lutheran in Lebanon, Ohio to continue the work of discipling people and you are to remain here and continue your good work in the community and with Pastor Alec. We turn the page, not knowing what comes next in the story, but confident that at the end of the book there will be a happy ending where we are all reunited in the arms of God.

Keep it real, share the Gospel, help your neighbor in need,

Pastor Corey

I’m a face toucher. I touch my face, my kiddos’ faces, and my Sweetie’s face. There might even be a chance that, in a moment of excitement or enthusiasm, I reached out and squeezed your beautiful face. I’m sorry about that… I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the beautiful gift that you are to the world.

Enough! This is a new season of life. During this season of COVID-19, my face touching, eye rubbing, along with many other high touch activities have been reduced to a minimum, since evidence shows it as a primary way of transmitting all sorts of microscopic particles. These are hazardous to your health.

This has been a major shift for many of us. We’ve not only had to curb the way we touch door knobs and grab faucet handles, but we’ve also added a series of new daily rhythms as we mask up, get an extra squirt of hand sanitizer, and sing songs while we scrub up our hands. We don’t want to become infected and become ill. Even more, we don’t want to transmit the virus along to those we love or those who are most vulnerable.

On occasion, we engage our faith in similar ways. We don’t want to become infected by the realities of a God who would love and forgive us. We might believe in fresh starts and unconditional love, but we wonder if it is only available to others. We say, “God’s grace can’t extend to me. You don’t know what I’ve thought or done.”

We also don’t want to force our beliefs on others, so we muffle our words like we would cover our cough or we don’t speak up in a key moment. In an effort to remain virus free, we steer clear of anything that smacks of religiosity or theology (talk about God). We practice spiritual distancing. We employ protocols of ignorance, distraction, and excuses. We go out of our way to avoid interacting with God or with others about faith stuff.

But God’s activity can’t be quarantined. We may deny it. We may do everything in our power to lie to ourselves and others about our condition and try to self-isolate, but the presence of God cannot help but infect us. Because we encounter the living God every day through creation, one another, and the company of the Spirit, we cannot help but show signs of infection. Our lives are symptomatic, as we test positive for being in the presence of the Holy One.

The apostle Paul says that God’s symptoms show up in a variety of ways:

“Love from the center of who you are; don’t fake it.

Run for dear life from evil; hold on for dear life to good.

Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle…

Don’t quit in hard times; pray all the harder.

Help the needy; be inventive in hospitality.

Bless your enemies; no cursing under your breath…

If you see your enemy hungry, go buy that person lunch,

or if he’s thirsty, get him a drink.

Your generosity will surprise him with goodness.

Don’t let evil get the best of you; get the best of evil by doing good.”

(Romans 12:9-21 -The Message)

God’s love is contagious. Living. Sharing. Celebrating. This isn’t only a Lord of Life thing. This is a Christian thing – even a human thing. Created in the image of God, this is our factory setting, how we are wired, how we are created to be. We can’t shake these symptoms. Our prayer is that God’s love will infect and change the whole world!

Spreading the Love of God,

Pastor Lowell

There are a lot of facets to who I am, but most of my identity has always revolved around being a musician. There are pictures of me in nothing but a little button up shirt and a diaper sitting at an organ console, and most of the memories I have from my childhood are of playing an instrument or singing in church. At age 41, there are days I'm still not sure what I want to be when I grow up, but the actual thought of being anything but a musician is almost impossible to imagine. Given how integral music is to me, having 6 months in which the nature of my work has changed so dramatically due to our current health crisis has really made me struggle with who I am and what I'm doing.

I know we've all felt the burden of having to adjust our lives around an invisible virus that we haven't learned how to control. But as someone with a traumatic past and issues with depression and anxiety, I had no idea how much being pulled away from my regular work would cause me to spiral into a dark place. Extra hours of sitting on the couch, looking for distraction, only led to the inability to get off the couch at all. After the first three months, the thought of getting more projects finished at home was forced to confront the reality of my loss of motivation, lack of energy, and general irritability. I've only started pulling out of it in the weeks since we've been able to start working in the office and having occasional in-person worship, which is when I really feel like I get to be who I am.

And now it is Pumpkin Spice season. I know some people feel a strong distaste for it, but for me it is a reminder that autumn is on its way, holidays are around the corner, and I'll get to partake in some great meals, social gatherings, and all the music opportunities that usually come with the academic year and eventually Christmas. This year it comes with more questions than answers. Will I be able to gather with the same people? Will my regular music groups get to perform? What will worship look like by the end of the year if we're still in the throes of a pandemic?

There is finally some comfort, though. Last weekend we celebrated Eucharist for the first time since March. While we still weren't able to gather near each other around the table, hearing the Words of Institution again made me feel God's presence in a way I haven't felt in months. "Take and eat; this is my body, given for you." And then, whether we were at church or at home, we were all able to eat and drink the elements that had been blessed together. This is the center of our worship because it is a reminder that we are part of the same community and that we have already been given God's grace. It isn't just for a specific season, but for all time. And it is a reminder of not only who we are, but whose we are as Christians.

Yours in Communion,

John Johns