I put on my dress shoes this week. Since I have been working and leading online worship from home, I haven’t had many occasions to put on socks and shoes in quite a while. My happy toes have grown accustomed to spreading out in the wide footbed of my sandals and were confused by the sudden constricting apparatus which enveloped them on this dress shoe day.

I don’t know what I thought would happen physiologically from wearing sandals for the last three months, but when my feet were all wrapped up on a hot summer day, they felt claustrophobic. Is that possible? It was as if the bones, cartilage, and muscles were longing for their newfound freedom.

I’ve been thinking about feet this summer. Everywhere I look, people are on the move. I’ve noticed a rapid rise of evening walkers in our neighborhood. I’ve ventured with my family to several area bike paths and witnessed runners and bikers exercising, connecting, and relaxing as the sun sets on another day. I’ve watched people march in peaceful demonstrations around the globe and celebrated those who continue to walk and run 5Ks to support their favorite cause. Each is going somewhere. One step at a time, they are in motion.

The Rev. Michael B. Curry, Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal church, tells a powerful story about holy feet in his book, Crazy Christians: A Call to Follow Jesus.

A few days before I was consecrated bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of North Carolina in June 2000, a group of pilgrims left Holy Trinity Lutheran Church in Greensboro, North Carolina, to walk almost 60 miles to Duke Chapel in Durham…They walked the highways and the back roads in prayer and reflection and witness as the diocese prepared to welcome me as their bishop. Little did I realize at the time that their spiritual pilgrimage would prove to be a parable of who we are as disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ.

 

As they walked, they walked in the steps of Chaucer’s Canterbury pilgrims…They walked in the steps of Mahatma Gandhi’s Salt March to the Indian Ocean. They walked in the steps of those who marched across Selma’s Edmund Pettis Bridge in 1965. Above all, they walked in the steps of Jesus of Nazareth, who summons disciples of every generation with the words, ‘Follow me.’ Their pilgrimage was part of other pilgrimages of the past, because in their walking they showed that discipleship is really about what you do with your feet.

Take a look at your feet. Where have they carried you? How have they led you throughout life? Give thanks for those places and occasions. Now, consider what you are doing with your feet. Where are you headed? Are they leading you into new territory? Are there unknown paths you’ve discovered or wish to explore?

Frederick Buechner believes that our feet can give us some good information about ourselves and our priorities. “I say if you want to know who you are… you could do a lot worse than look at your feet for an answer. When you wake up in the morning, called by God to be a self again, if you want to know who you are, watch your feet. Because where your feet take you, that is who you are” (The Alphabet of Grace, pp. 24-25).

In the coming weeks, we’ll be talking about where we are headed as Lord of Life this year. Which are the well-worn paths we’ll follow and which are the new trails to discover or create? As you can imagine, the protocols and uncertainty of the coronavirus have us re-imagining our shared ministry life, but we continue to seek faithful ways to worship, serve, and learn together as we follow the way of Jesus.

On the road again,

Pastor Lowell

When I was just starting out in the workforce, I attended a lecture by one of Procter & Gamble’s nationally recognized female executives on the topic of work-life balance. She shared a lot of good information, but one thing she said stuck with me. In discussing working moms vs stay-at-home moms vs. part-time moms, and daycare vs. nannies vs. babysitters, she said that we need to support each other, and recognize that whatever situation is right for your family, it didn’t mean that others who made a different choice were wrong. 

I’ve had the same concept presented to me again and again in different formats. In a class on conflict resolution and negotiation, I was encouraged to borrow a technique taught to improvisational actors called “Yes, and.” The idea being that to keep a conversation flowing, be it a comedy sketch or a work negotiation, you respond to the other person’s idea first with an affirmation: “yes,” then you build on it with  “and.”

This idea of supporting each other’s choices is always a good one, but especially appropriate now when many folks are faced with situations with no clear right answer for anyone. Many of us are wrestling with choices about educating our children during this COVID-19 pandemic. More than one friend has posted a graphic on Facebook with the message that whatever education option you choose, you are a good parent for making the best choice for your kids, and I support you in making that tough choice. What a terrific affirmation when one is struggling to balance learning, socialization, and health and safety!

Now, I’m not saying there aren’t bad choices. We know there are bad choices and we’ve all made them.  The apostle Paul talks about our common struggle with sin: “I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate” (Romans 7:15). But we’ve been freed of the stain of those bad choices through God’s grace and Jesus’ resurrection. Let’s share that freedom and the peace that comes with it with those around us who need some support and affirmation. 

In a recent session of our Summer Study on Race, we discussed the film Just Mercy, about the life of Bryan Stevenson, who has dedicated decades to the release of those wrongly incarcerated. Many of us involved in the discussion expressed that we’re no Bryan Stevenson -- we aren’t called to serve in that way. Especially in these days when so many of our traditional ways of serving and giving are unavailable, many felt adrift.

During these uncertain and anxious days, one thing we can all do is encourage and pray for one another. Share some words of appreciation with all of those essential workers helping you keep your family fed, safe, and educated. Take an extra moment to connect with colleagues as they navigate the pros and cons of returning to the office or working from home.  Comment on a post to share some words of encouragement to someone who needs it.  And be gentle with yourself as you navigate all of the choices to be made in these singular times. Know that there are moms, dads, friends, kids, and a loving God who are in your corner cheering you on!

You got this,

Cara

Each time I’m at my mom’s house, there’s a little book that I like to pick up and read. 500 Things Your Minister Tried To Tell You… But The Guy Sitting Next To You Was Snoring So Loud You Couldn’t Hear is a little book filled with churchy sayings, motivational Bible verses, and profound theological one liners. A real page turner!

On a recent visit, I cracked it open and was stunned by the message from Mildred Bangs Wynkoop for me – for us – at this season of coronavirus and global unrest.

“Every generation needs to rethink, restate, and creatively apply its theological heritage to its own situation. In this way the heritage stays vital and relevant.”

Wynkoop, an educator, pastor, missionary in Japan, and seminary professor in the Church of the Nazarene tradition, knew the importance of ongoing assessment and clarification. She spent her life interpreting and translating her faith tradition for new generations. She knew that only dwelling in the past, with no consideration of context and a changing culture, would see the rapid evaporation of her heritage.

As Lutheran Christians, we have a powerful theological heritage and worldview. Grounded in the Bible, we were birthed out of the protests in the 1500s, as Martin Luther prioritized God’s love and God’s action as primary in the Story of salvation. We are saved by grace through faith. It is a gift of God (Ephesians 2:8).

We embrace the mysteries of God that dwell in paradox, recognizing that we are both saint and sinner at the same time. God’s Word is law and gospel at the same time. We live in two kingdoms – a kingdom of God and a kingdom of humanity – at the same time. By the grace of God we live as free people, yet we are bound to serve – at the same time. We believe that God is still speaking, working, and dwelling among us through the power of the Holy Spirit.

This way of thinking and living positions us well for this season of COVID-19 life when we’re asking ourselves complex questions, “What is essential? What is risky? What are our priorities? How do we need to live differently? How do I celebrate my civil liberties and still care for those around me?” Our Lutheran Christian perspective and voice is crucial during these days of uncertainty.

In our most recent Let’s Talk About Race discussion, we digested the autobiographical film about Bryan Stevenson, “Just Mercy.” Several who participated shared how their mind is changing and their behaviors are adapting as they come to grips with the racism embedded in their own lives and our culture. Still grounded in their lives of faith, they are making shifts as the Spirit of God leads them into a new era.

One of the Bible verses we pivoted around was Micah 6:8:

“God has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.”

I’m grateful that Holy Scripture tells us that not only does God require these things of us, but that they are GOOD! Justice is good. Mercy is good. Humility and kindness and compassion are good. We know this, but we so often forget.

Let this be a reminder. We are called to love and care for our neighbors near and far. What this looks like may shift from generation to generation or even from week to week. Right now, in Southern Ohio, put on the mask, physically distance, wash your hands, and continue to pray. These are some of the ways that God’s love spills out into the world.

Still working on loving my neighbor,

Pastor Lowell

Since the beginning of my journey to the “pastorate,” I have always looked forward to and have been scared of internship. Internship is exciting in that I begin full-time fieldwork into what I love and feel called to. However, these two years of serving and learning are scary due to the responsibility and expectations, but mostly because of change. Change is scary, and I became familiar with change as something to fear in the weeks leading up to moving to West Chester, OH. 

When impatiently waiting for my absentee ballot to arrive in the mail, I realized that I may be filling out my last ballot as a Kentuckian. In this realization, I felt as if part of my identity was soon to be chipped away. Grappling with moving north of the Ohio River, I did not only worry about my Kentucky identity, but also worried about leaving friends, family, my church, and my significant other Justin. I had to prepare to adjust to a new normal just as a repotted plant has to get used to new soil.

Though I am still a Kentuckian, friends and family are only two hours away, and my partner will frequently visit since he is able to work from home during the pandemic, the anxiety remains. Though I am anxious, I know that “home” is an ever-developing word. Our understanding of what home is for ourselves never stays the same for a long period of time. Sometimes, home is a place, like the great commonwealth of Kentucky. Though I haven’t lived with my parents in years, they’re home and their house is still home - though in a different way, prior to moving out. As my relationship has developed, Justin is now home. 

I did not reconstruct my family and parents’ house as home without moving out. I did not discover Justin as home without taking a leap into dating. And now, I am taking a leap to discover home as West Chester, OH and Lord of Life Lutheran Church. Though change is scary, small and large leaps can reap bountiful harvest.

We know this to be true by the leaps of Jesus’ followers when they first decided to make Jesus their home, whether it was Simon Peter and Andrew leaving their nets to follow him, the bold unnamed woman entering a Pharisees’ house to anoint Jesus’ feet, or Matthew leaving the tax collector’s booth to a life he did not yet know. 

I find rest in knowing that Jesus is always home, and I take comfort in the truths of the gospel, one of them being that courageous leaps and vulnerability are necessary in finding home like Jesus - security, comfort, joy. In this knowledge, I am still anxious, but I look forward to discovering home as Lord of Life Lutheran and West Chester, OH.

From home,

Alec Brock (he, him, his)

Thanks to all who made this year’s VBS happen! This year's theme "On Earth as in Heaven" invited us to pray for God's transformation of the world - and say “Yes” to God's invitation to be part of it!

Each day focused on a goal for ensuring a sustainable future for everyone, including hunger issues, good health, gender equality, education, and peace.

Here are a few quotes from families who participated:

Thank you so much to everyone who put their time and effort into moving VBS online. It was AWESOME! As a parent, I loved how easy it was to navigate through the videos each day. By dividing them up, it helped to take breaks and come back, since not everyone has the same attention span.

My daughter attends LOLCP. She is an only child and really missed her classmates this spring. So when I told her what VBS was, she was very excited. She especially loved the flags for each country or state, singing along with the music, and all of the crafts. We had nice conversations about helping others, being kind, praying for others, and about everyone and everything being connected as One through God.

Kudos to the entire Lord of Life Team and thank you for brightening our summer!

Thanks! Nicole

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We absolutely love the virtual VBS this year! Sometimes, we did VBS after dinner as our family game night! We saved some crafts, science, recipes, and games for a later date, so we can stretch them out for a couple weeks.

We utilized all of the activities into school learning too. My son is going into the second grade and needs a lot of writing practice. My son now knows the Lord’s Prayer by heart and has started writing it on his own.

His grandmother is in the hospital, so he used the Lord’s Prayer bracelet to give her as a gift! He said it was an example of “on earth as it is in heaven.”

Christine

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VBS was amazing!!! The kids have been singing the songs non-stop. We have been doing all the crafts and science experiments as a family each night. It has been so great! Our daughter was so proud of herself to not only know all of the words to The Lord’s Prayer, but to also know what the prayer means.

Thank you so much for having virtual camp, it was above and beyond what we expected! The kids are so sad it is over.

Laura

*WARNING - THIS BLOG IS ABOUT AS HAPPY AS THE FIRST 10 MINUTES OF A DISNEY MOVIE. PROCEED WITH CAUTION*

Spring and summer in my backyard means a lot of things: days lounging on the patio in front of a big movie screen and fire pit; several garden beds with blooming perennials and seedling volunteers; the satisfying smell of the earth as I dig up weeds and plant new flowers; and more wildlife than I could usually see walking through the woods. We have chipmunks, rabbits, squirrels, more species of birds than I can count (including woodpeckers that have put a pretty big dent in my shed), and a family of deer that has, for the last 6 years, given birth to a new generation of fawns in our bushes each spring.

Each year our deer have gotten more comfortable in our yard, and this year they have confidently roamed around, grazing and nursing while we have been back there working. We have felt particularly special when doe and fawn have come back, nursed, and then the doe has left the fawn with us, giving us a glance as she leaves the yard as if to say, "Hey I'm going to run some errands, could you watch him for a bit?" We've been able to walk right up to him and take pictures and I love going back and looking at the development of this wobbly, scrawny fawn who could barely open his eyes, to this bright-eyed, attentive creature who can already leap a 4-foot fence after just a few short weeks of life.

A few days ago I was on my way home from church and just as I was about to turn on to my own street, I saw my sweet fawn across the street, headed toward my yard. I was horrified as I watched it bound into traffic and I was crushed as I saw him tossed across the hood of an oncoming car. I parked my car and then walked up the street to see if there was any hope to be found. By the time I got close to the scene, several cars had stopped, including the woman who had hit him. As I approached, he managed to stand up and he slowly made his way through my neighbor's yard to my fence with a noticeably broken leg and a bloody nose. I've spent a lot of time with wildlife, and even though he was still alert and moving around, I knew there were no guarantees for his long-term survival. 

More immediately, though, there was now a crowd gathered on my street. I'm sure they all wanted to have a part in helping, but I really wanted to handle him without a group of well-intentioned strangers. While I assured the onlookers that my veterinarian was right down the street and convinced them I would do what I could to get him there, the woman whose car had hit him stood there, tears streaming down her face, quiet sobs escaping her lungs. I wanted to grieve on my own. I was angry. I was devastated. Had she been paying attention? Was she going too fast? I didn't know. There was no way I could possibly re-live the situation through her eyes. I couldn't begin to estimate what she had gone through in that moment.

So ... there was nothing to be gained by spreading my own grief and anger to her. Instead, in a moment of clarity and calm, I decided to stand with her and reassure her. I didn't know if there was anything she could have done differently, but I told her there was nothing she could have done. I didn't know if he would survive, but I told her that he seemed ok and that he had a safe place to be in my backyard. I didn't know if I would be able to catch or contain him to get him medical attention, but I assured her that I would and that he would get the care he needed. There was nothing comforting to me about my own words, but there was no reason to send her away with her own grief when it was so easy for me to ease it by spending a few extra moments with her.

The fawn left my yard with his mother and I don't know how he has done over the last few days. I've been watching and ready to fulfill my promises of help if I could, but I know nature will take its course. I've been thinking a lot about my interactions with people and how often I'm confronted with the choice to either spread my own grief and anger about things or find a way to provide comfort in a situation. How often does a post on social media get my blood-pressure boiling and I could reply with a vicious and brilliantly cutting attack on the person who posted, or I could find some words to redirect the conversation and try to show that there is common ground. I don't have most of the answers (even though sometimes I like to think I do). But I always have a choice with my words and what I choose to put out in the world.