What Emerges

A word on what’s happening in our state. This is part of the message that I shared during my sermon on Sunday, January 11, 2026.

Thank you for being here today. Thank you for your trust that this is a safe place, despite all the chaos that has transpired in our cities. Thanks for trusting me, that the message I’m about to deliver is one of love. This is never meant to be a bully pulpit.

The last few days, I have been at Camp Ripley. When I first arrived, there was an uneasiness—would we be activated? The first words I heard when I arrived came from a commander who reminded everyone to stop spreading rumors and fear. Our job is to serve the people of our state and be ready whenever called to protect our communities. That’s our call, as people of God, to serve our community.  

 

Grace and peace to you my siblings in Christ,

One of my favorite theologians is a guy named Rob Bell. I like him so much that this is the third book of his that we’ve read at the Faith book club which will meet this Friday at 12:30. Bell wrote this in 2020, yet it’s a bit of a spiritual memoir of his entire life.

He talks about his life as a pastor, including one time in the early 2000’s when a couple asked him about the Iraq war.

Bell listened to where the father was coming from—how he justified that regime change, political change, and liberation can only happen through coercive military action.

Bell’s epiphany was that redemptive violence is a myth, even though it’s been around forever.

“Redemptive violence is the belief that when someone wrongs you, the way to make it better is to wrong them back. All redemptive violence does is keep violence in circulation. Back and forth without anybody ever learning anything. That’s the problem: lack of learning. Lack of new thinking. Lack of imagination.

Then he asks, is there no other way to change the world?

The revolutionary truth of Jesus is that he’s executed. Killed. Why? For insisting that there are other ways to change the world:

Love. Solidarity. Generosity. Compassion. Praying for your enemies.

Jesus insists that violence can end. We don’t have to live like this.

In the book of Acts, Peter is preaching what seems like a regular sermon. Maybe a bit boring, nothing too exciting.

It starts by saying, Peter began to speak to them…  them. Who’s “them”?

Would you believe it’s a centurion named Cornelius, and his family?

Why might that matter? A centurion is the occupying Roman military officer. The people trying to arrest the disciples. The same people aligned with guys like Paul, who stood and watched as Stephen, a deacon, was stoned to death for speaking about Jesus.

Peter, a Jew, has a dream telling him it’s ok to trust this Roman officer. Do you think he’s afraid to talk to Cornelius? I know I’d be terrified.

Somehow, Peter summons the courage to proclaim the good news of Jesus. This group knows nothing about our Savior. This centurion hears that there’s another way to live.

In fact, his WHOLE family changes. The Holy Spirit arrives. They’re ALL baptized—they join this body of Christ.

Rob Bell has often been told that his teachings about love and nonviolence are nice, but that’s not how the real world works. To which Bell responds, “isn’t the real world ours to create? Don’t we get a say?”

It’s all connected. We… are all connected. Small movements here can cause massive shifts over there. We have the power to tilt things in new and better ways.  

Isn’t that what we want? Aren’t we craving a world where we have the power to tilt things in new and better ways?

Someone asked me the other day how I’m doing.

I didn’t reply “fine.” I knew that the person asking me wouldn’t be able to say she was fine either. She had just brought a child home from school because the student’s father had been detained by ICE and the mother was terrified. Traumatized.

A Soldier told me that his uncle was taken. He doesn’t know when or if he’ll see him.

I know there’s a lot of narratives going around right now. But think about what’s happening here, in our community.

Schools closed. Businesses shut down. It’s creating fear.  

My kids went through “ICE training” on Friday like it was a fire drill or an active shooter drill. It’s strange that this is our story in this country right now. This is a new world. I don’t need to tell you that. I don’t feel safer. I don’t feel like we’re closer to finding peace. Do you?

Maybe that’s why you are leaning into your faith right now.

You need an outlet. Or you need a place where we are united by a shared faith, a shared peace. Like Rob Bell, you realize that we’re all connected—when one of us hurts, we all hurt.

I also have been talking extensively with our synod, especially Justin Grimm. He shared that one of our peers said, “I’m not ok, but I will be.”

On Christmas Eve, I told you about our sister church, Cristo Rey, and how they canceled worship because a member was detained.

Our fellow Christians are frightened. They are citizens. Like you and me. This behavior isn’t justice. They legally belong. They just aren’t being treated… like they belong.

Justin has attended Faith frequently—to preach, but also to come to worship. He knows that our congregation is filled with big hearts and a welcoming embrace. He wrote this week on behalf of the immigrant communities in our church body.

Here are four requests from him that can be summed up like this: 

1. Pray. Pray for colleagues who lead these communities. Pray for the community- in worship, on your own, whenever you can.
2. Give. Our generosity will allow ministry to support our neighbors in ELCA churches.
3. Show up. Like the woman who called me saying she helped a kid get home from school without his dad, our presence is so important right now. Show up with food, reach out.

You know what else you can do? Write some letters of encouragement and love. Tell our neighbors that you are praying for them. Drop them off at church, and I’ll make sure they get to them.

The revolutionary truth about Jesus is that, after violence is used to silence him, what emerges is love. Rebirth. Something new, powerful, and never-ending.

Even the centurion is able to see what that means. He can be reborn.

We are here because Jesus rose from the dead. How will we rise from this? On this Sunday when we remember the baptism of Jesus, I believe the answer is staring us in the face when we look in the mirror:  

You’ve been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever. Choose to rise up as a child of God. Amen