This is the last Sunday for quite some time that we’ll be seeing the book of 1 John in our lectionary readings. I’ve really enjoyed this book and the many places it has taken me. Today’s reading from the fifth chapter of 1 James took me to one of my very favorite places – my refrigerator. And for all you wise guys, I wasn’t sneaking off for snacks while I was working on this sermon. 1 John wasn’t leading me to the inside of the fridge. Instead, 1 John was guiding me to the outside of the fridge.

Now my wife might not be too pleased at me sharing this, but the outside of our fridge is a total wreck. I don’t think we’re unique in that regard. Our fridge, probably just like your fridge, is essentially a big metal bulletin board. It’s covered with magnets that hold and broadcast the many details of our lives. There are little cards that remind us of doctor appointments. There are calendars and Little League schedules. Up in the top right hand corner is scrap paper on which we keep a running, evolving grocery list. Occasionally a piece of Emilio’s artwork goes on temporary exhibition. And over on the left side is a small dry erase board on which we scribble phone numbers, quick notes and reminders. Does this sound like your fridge? How would any of us survive without notes on the fridge? Those notes govern our schedules, guide our existence and keep us moving forward even in the midst of lives that too often are far too busy.

How would you react if God put a note on your fridge? Would you notice it or even be able to find it amidst the clutter of things all around it? And if you did manage to see that note from God hanging on the fridge, would it receive any priority? Or would you move it to a distant part of the fridge – maybe the side – so that you’d be able to focus on things that seem more pressing and more important?

When the books of the Bible were being written, refrigerators obviously didn’t exist. But today’s text from 1 John has the first century equivalent of a note on the fridge – a note from God. Verse 13 reads as follows: “I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, so that you may know that you have eternal life.”

At first glance it sounds simple – maybe even simplistic, right? It doesn’t seem much more profound than your grocery list. But close your eyes and listen carefully to it again. Listen to this note on the fridge from God: “I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, so that you may know that you have eternal life.”

Now let me translate this little message from God into more contemporary language that you might find on a fridge: “Hey you – yes you! I know you believe in my Son Jesus, and so I want you to know and always remember that you have eternal life! Love, God.” Now that’s a note worth keeping on your fridge. That’s a note worth sticking right in the middle of the freezer door so that you see it every time you reach in for your bucket of Ritchey’s ice cream. This is the most important note on your fridge… because it comes to you from God.

But why is this note so special? Well, to begin with, God says you have eternal life. That’s a very different thing than saying you will have eternal life, or you’ll have eternal life if you do this, that or the other thing. God’s gift of eternal life isn’t dependent on your goodness, your merit, how educated you are, how pious you are or anything else like that. God’s not teasing you with eternal life or dangling it in front of you like a prize that you can only claim if you read all of the fine print and meet all of God’s terms and conditions. It is a gift. You who believe in Jesus Christ as the Son of God have eternal life. Period!

I realize this sounds way too good to be true. It’s sort of like hearing that your ice cream is calorie free if you just think pleasant thoughts while you’re eating it. You’re welcome to try that, but I can assure you, based on personal experience, that it doesn’t work!

But God’s grace is different. It’s fortified with love and freely given away to those who believe. God’s love is so radically different from the ways of the world that it’s hard for us to understand. I think that’s why the book of 1 John seems to repeat itself so much. All throughout it we hear how God calls us to build our community on the twin pillars of faith in Christ and love that extends to God and to our brothers and sisters. Faith and love… faith and love… faith and love. It sounds like a broken record throughout 1 John because we’re probably not going to believe it the first time we hear it. We might not even believe it after hearing it 100 times.

And so God decided to take the message one step further and has placed a note on your fridge. “Hey you – yes you! I know you believe in my Son Jesus, and so I want you to know and always remember that you have eternal life! Love, God.”

This is a very different message than you’ll hear in a lot of other places. Many churches teach that you have to make a decision. You need to know exactly when you were saved. And so you have to focus on that monumental moment when YOU accept Christ. Or you have to work your heart out in some huge act of sacrifice to prove that you really, really want Jesus as your savior. It’s sort of like a high stakes poker game where Jesus will only take you on as part of his team after you’ve pushed every last one of your chips into the middle of the table, in one huge, final bet, and loudly announce, “I’M ALL IN!”

I don’t suppose there’s anything inherently bad about doing those things, but the reality of being human is that we’re going to make mistakes. We’re going to hurt someone’s feelings, do something unkind, act out of greed, self-interest or pride, break one or more of the commandments or disregard something Jesus taught in the Sermon on the Mount. As much as all of us would hope that sin wouldn’t happen, it does. And then what? Do you have to make another decision? Do you have to undertake another grand act of sacrifice? Do you have to bet it all again? And how long is your own personal righteousness going to carry you this time? Here’s the problem. If we think that eternal life depends on the great things we do, we’re eventually going to make a mistake, become discouraged, lose hope and give up.

But eternal life is God’s work and God’s gift for us. So when things seem broken, when it feels like hope is slipping away, and when all seems lost, it’s awfully nice to see a note on the fridge from God… a note that reads: “Hey you – yes you! I know you believe in my Son Jesus, and so I want you to know and always remember that you have eternal life! Love, God.”

But what is this eternal life that God has given to us? Is it only something we get when we die? I think the best way to think about “eternal life” is that it’s a relationship with God – a relationship that carries with it the promise of God’s presence, God’s love and God’s transformative power. The gift of eternal life gives us hope that we can realize God’s dream for us, not just when we die, but also throughout this life. It doesn’t mean we’re all going to be rich. It doesn’t mean that we’re always going to be healthy. It doesn’t mean that each day will be even happier than the next. We all have crosses to bear. But it does mean that God never abandons us. God never rejects us. And God never stops loving us.

And so we don’t have to spend each day worrying whether we’ve done enough to earn eternal life. God has removed that anxiety from us so that we can live as God’s loved and liberated people, freed to pour ourselves out in love and service to others… not because we have to, but because we want to.

That’s a powerful dose of good news. Yet sometimes in the midst of all of the pressures and stresses of life we forget it. We lose track of who we really are. We lose sight of the God who created us, who loves us and who never wants to be separated from us. And so we need a reminder. We need a note on the fridge – a note from God.

“Hey you – yes you! I know you believe in my Son Jesus, and so I want you to know and always remember that you have eternal life! Love, God.”

As you leave worship today, I will have with me some refrigerator magnets that contain a note from God. Put it on your fridge, and let it remind you that you are loved and treasured by God. Equipped with God’s grace, may we be blessed to live in hope and joy… and through us, may God’s love be unleashed upon a world that is thirsting for Good News.

This I pray in Jesus name. Amen.

As you may have heard by now, my daughter Annika recently suffered a serious concussion arising from a volleyball accident in gym class. We are thankful to God that all of the tests thus far indicate she suffered no lasting physical damage. The concussion, however, left her with significant memory loss. Though she can carry on normal conversations and outwardly appears relatively unaffected by the accident, she cannot remember close friends, teachers and incidents that have been dear to her throughout her life. Memories are gradually reappearing for her. It seems that the oldest memories are coming back first, and we have every expectation that the balance of her recollections will eventually reappear as well, but we have no timetable for when that will happen. In the meantime we celebrate each and every recovered memory.

This incident has reminded me of the crucial importance of memory in establishing our identity, and has highlighted for me how our past experiences and recollections shape not only who we are but also who we will become. Our memories are treasures that include people we have known, places we have travelled or lived and things we have done. They are vitally important and fill our photo albums, conversations and dreams.

But our identity is rooted in something even more important and life-giving. The quote from 1 John plainly states it: we are children of God. Somewhere along the road of life we tend to forget this. And so we wrap our identity in things like our professions, our possessions, our accomplishments and our worldly experiences. None of those things are bad, but if that is all we have then we have a tragically incomplete perspective of who we really are. As a result of that forgetting, we can lose our way. We can even lose hope.

Dear ones, we are children of God. As such, we have intrinsic value and worth. We are people of hope. We have been claimed by a loving Savior who blesses us with the promise of purpose, new life, forgiveness and a future – both in this world and in the world to come. But there is even more! As 1 John 3:2 states, “Beloved, we are God's children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is.” This promise is too big and too wonderful for me to be able to even imagine the scope of what it means. But this astonishing promise is indeed for all of us. How blessed we are!

On behalf of my family I send you sincere thanks for the prayers you have lifted heavenward in intercession for us. Your cards, words of comfort and heartfelt prayers have blessed and strengthened us in ways beyond our ability to express. May we all be blessed to retain and relish the many memories that have made us who we are. But may we cling even more tightly to the true and essential core of our identity: we are children of God. Thanks be to God!
Pastor Scott

Jesus, as recorded in Mark 10:15

I think most parents will agree that it is a mixed blessing when our children develop the ability to speak. On the one hand, we celebrate that they are developing, growing and maturing. But on the other hand, our newly-verbal children quickly flood us with a certain dreaded three-letter word. “Daddy, why is the sky blue?” “Mommy, why are you driving the car?” At some point our children simply respond “Why?” to every statement we make. It can be slightly maddening, but asking questions is how our children learn and grow.

As children reach the teen years, “why” tends to fade away. The high school and college years are a time for our children to assert independence and to establish that they can figure things out on their own. They go their own way and blaze their own beautiful trails. Of course, sometimes the refusal to ask “why” results in a few falls, with resulting bruises to the ego and heart.

At some point as adults we regain a sense of the importance of asking “why.” Wisdom has taught us that we don’t have all the answers. Nevertheless, we avoid asking questions because questions might lead to change, and change can be very threatening. Especially in this day and age, the pace of change is so rapid that it often feels like everything familiar to us is slipping away, leaving us anchorless and adrift. So, quite understandably, we do our best to hold onto what we know and resist the urge to ask that simple but powerful question: “Why?”

In Mark 10:15, Jesus tells us to welcome God’s kingdom like a child. He goes even further in Matthew 18:3, calling us to become like children. I can’t help but conclude that part of this involves having the courage to ask the why question. But why?

Asking questions about God and posing questions to God evidences our engagement with God. Any worthwhile relationship involves asking questions, sharing, and being vulnerable. As individuals and as the Church I think we are at our best when we have the courage to be children and to ask questions – especially questions that don’t have easy answers. Questions are one of the most important tools in the arsenal of the Holy Spirit and are a primary means by which the Spirit leads us through the previously-unseen doorways God has opened. When we say “why,” we learn, we grow, and we release the ballast of our fears and anxieties. And in that letting go, we float ever-so-gracefully closer to God.

During Lent and throughout Holy Week, I hope the varied worship and educational opportunities available here at St. Matthew are providing you with contemplative pathways and lots of encouragement to ask why about anything and everything. And as we pass from Christ’s passion on the cross to the empty tomb on Easter, I hope the “whys” will keep coming. That question will bring us closer to God and to each other. And as we ask, ponder, search and wonder, we’ll eventually discover that God has guided us to leading simple, joyous lives of discipleship through which we’re proclaiming Christ’s life-changing message of hope, love and grace.

God, bless us with the courage to ask “why.” Bless us with the courage to be children.

Pastor Scott

It has been a long time since our family has had a pet. For many years in Maine we had a Border Collie named Mackie. After he died, another Border Collie, Olivia, came into our lives. She loved to chase things…people, cars, even the shadow of airplanes flying overhead. If it moved, she would chase it. We knew the heavy traffic of Seminary Ridge in Gettysburg and all of those alluring tour buses would not be beneficial to her life expectancy, so before leaving for seminary we found a family with a nice farm to adopt her. Now, almost five years later, we are feeling settled for the first time in a long time and are thinking about bringing a pet into our family. Only this time we’re strongly considering a cat, because a dog would require more time and attention than we’re currently able to provide.

I don’t know a lot about cats except that they make me sneeze. But I’m trusting that over time I will gradually build up some immunities. Assuming I can overcome that hurdle, my primary wish is for a cat that will be highly affectionate. I like the idea of crashing on the couch after a long day and having a friendly, purring cat crawl up on my lap for company.

But how will I find the right cat? A friend on Facebook counseled me that I don’t have to go looking. The right cat will find me. I think my friend’s advice is very wise.

In this busy, multitasking world of ours, most of us aren’t very good at waiting for things to come to us. We feel like we have to be in motion, always moving, always doing, and always being active. But as the above-quoted scripture from Ephesians reminds us, God chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before him in love. Did you notice who is doing the moving, the doing and the acting? That’s right…God…not us. There isn’t a single one of us who earned God’s love or who merits God’s attention by what we do. God’s love and God’s attention comes because of who we are – God’s beloved children, chosen by God before the foundation of the world.

Nevertheless, old habits die hard. Even in Lent, we’re obsessed with doing. For example, we routinely speak of Lent as a journey. We carefully consider what we are going to give up for Lent. And we take on very active Lenten disciplines. Don’t get me wrong – there is nothing wrong with any of that. Lent is an ideal time for introspection, repentance and reform – a time to let the non-essential things of this life fall away so that we can focus on those things that are essential. But this Lent, I’m going to try to be less focused on doing, and more open to simply being in God’s presence. I’m hoping to slow myself down and wait on God for a bit, trusting that the same God who chose me long ago continues to choose me, come to me, speak to me, guide me and bless me. You see, we don’t have to stir up a dust cloud of activity in order to find God. God will find us.

I guess you could label my approach to Lent this year as “Kitten Theology” because even as I wait for God to come to me I will also be trying, as my friend suggested, to patiently wait for just the right kitten to find me and come into my family’s life. And who knows…maybe before Lent is over I’ll have a little furry friend on my lap, purring away, as we expectantly and joyfully wait for God together.

Pastor Scott

“So what?” is perhaps the most powerful question in the world. This question constantly rolls around in my mind as I prepare sermons, teach, and speak with folks both within and without the Church. I have to be prepared for the “so what” question because it can be fairly asked of every assertion I (and any other believer) make regarding Jesus Christ and the Gospel.

As Christians, however, we are rarely prepared to answer this question. That’s not because we lack information. Far from it! As a society and as individuals we are awash in data, information and statistics. But how do I make sense of it all? And what does any of it have to do with me?

One of my favorite Lutheran thinkers is Søren Kierkegaard, a Danish philosopher and theologian who died in 1855. Near the end of his life he got into a lot of trouble with the Danish state church because in his view they were taking their faith for granted. One born in Denmark at that time automatically became a member of the Lutheran state church. One could go through life with the official title of “Christian” or “Lutheran” on a piece of paper and yet live a life devoid of any evidence of Christ’s influence. This lack of vibrant faith and the absence of the ability to ask the Church and Jesus “So what?” did not arise because Danish Christians were short of, devotional books, church buildings or pastors. There was plenty of information about the truth to go around. Rather, the problem, as identified by Kierkegaard, was that no one took the time to think through those thoughts in relation to their own lives. It was just more information.

Here in the United States we do not live in a “State Church” society. No one is forced to be a Christian or a Lutheran. Yet in many ways we are in the same situation as the Danes of Kierkegaard’s time. Christianity has become a cultural institution rather than something in which we invest ourselves. For many, baptism is a rite of passage, like a birthday party, and communion is something we do because “that’s the way we’ve always done it.” A Christian faith that simply “goes through the motions” is a faith that has lost the skill of asking, “So what?”

What is the remedy? Do we need more instruction, additional books or a ten-week course? None of those things are bad, but we do not lack information. We lack the ability to see ourselves as an integral part of Christ’s story. The answer for the brief question “So what?” is an equally brief two-word reply: “For You.” You have the opportunity to hear these two words every time you take communion. As I distribute the bread, I say “This is the body of Christ, given FOR YOU.” As you receive the wine, a lay server says, “This is the blood of Christ, shed FOR YOU.” I hope you are especially hearing the “for you” part, because I try to stress it. Indeed, as Luther wrote in his Small Catechism, the only requirement to receive communion worthily is to believe that the bread and wine are given and shed for you. You really DO matter to Christ.

So as you consider your faith, do not be afraid to boldly ask, “So what?” because asking that question is an essential part of taking Christ’s call to discipleship seriously. But be prepared for an answer that is as mysterious, profound and remarkable as it is brief: Christ truly did all of this…FOR YOU. It genuinely is that real, that personal and that wonderful. Thanks be to God!

Pastor Scott

Recently I was driving to Homewood for a communion service. It had been a busy day and my mind was preoccupied with a host of things I needed to consider, plan, address and do. I was also running a few minutes late, which further added to my distraction. It was no great surprise then when I drove right past my turn into Homewood. I was annoyed at my inattentiveness, but my irritation passed shortly after I made my detour turn onto Cross Cove Road because there I was greeted with a view of Homewood that was different from the one I would have witnessed from my proper turn, Givler Drive. The mountain behind Homewood was blanketed with a soft layer of snow. The sight was so unexpectedly beautiful that my mouth fell open in astonishment. I quickly whispered a prayer of thanks to God for my diversion, because it brought a change of perspective and a little miracle of beauty to my afternoon that transformed not only my drive to Homewood but my entire day. It reminded me to approach every day – and especially all of our unexpected detours in this life – with an air of anticipation and expectation. God can – and will – transform everything into something beautiful and life-giving.

There is no better example of this than the cross. Within the Roman Empire, the cross was a tool of brutality, terror, torture and death. The surest way to quell a rebellion was to line a well-traveled road with tall wooden crosses on
which the troublemakers would be nailed for all to see. Their painful, public deaths would serve as a warning to all others not to challenger the Emperor. Two thousand years later, many Christians wear a miniature version of this
torture device around their necks. We do so not because we glory in pain or death, but because the cross serves as a reminder of Christ’s victory over death for himself and for all of us. The cross thus serves as the ultimate symbol of new life and God’s glorious transformative power.

Pause now and take a moment to examine your life. Have you taken a few wrong turns? Have you experienced some painful moments? Have you caused pain in others? If we answer honestly, all of us are going to respond “yes” to all three questions. But fortunately, that is not the final word. God is transforming us and our circumstances in order to bring hope, joy and new beginnings where others can see only despair, sadness and bitter endings. But how can this be? Martin Luther provides the answer in the Small Catechism: “I believe that by my own understanding or strength I cannot believe in Jesus Christ my Lord or come to him, but instead the Holy Spirit has called me through the gospel,
enlightened me with his gifts, made me holy, and kept me in the true faith, just as he calls, gathers, enlightens, and makes holy the whole Christian church on earth and keeps it with Jesus Christ in the one common, true faith.”

And so as 2012 begins, let us press forward in confidence and joy, anticipating and expecting God’s miracles and an outpouring of God’s transformative grace in our lives, in our families, in our congregation and in our community – not because we have earned it but because God’s love is richer, deeper, more powerful and more lavishly given than we can ever imagine. Thanks be to God!

December is such an exciting month for me because it is filled with so many wonderful traditions. I have always loved the tradition of the Advent wreath. When I was a boy, we would craft our wreaths with real ground pine. The earthy smell of the pine, the brightness of the candles and the anticipation of the season combined to heighten my excitement for all that was coming.

December is also filled with culinary traditions in our family. The scent of Christmas cookies fills the air as recipes, lovingly passed down from ancestors long-departed, come alive once again on kitchen counters and baking sheets to delight and nourish a new generation. We Swedish-Americans also look forward to our traditional Christmas Eve feast of freshly prepared Lutefisk, served over boiled potatoes and seasoned with a generous dollop of butter and dried mustard. It is accompanied with homemade Korv (Swedish sausage) using a secret family recipe that has its roots in the Old Country, and everything is topped off with pickled herring and Swedish rye bread. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it!

One of my fondest childhood memories of December was the arrival of the Sears Wish Book. I would spend hours and hours poring over each page as I compiled a list of all of the toys I wanted, and I dreamed about what it would be like to receive them all. Before long, the poor catalog would be so worn and dog-eared that it had to be reinforced with liberal quantities of scotch tape. When my little brother came along, our competition for the Wish Book was so fierce that my poor mother had to eventually ask the nice folks at the Sears retail store in town to give us a second copy so that each son would have one. (She had plenty of incentive to do this, because she knew it would keep us quiet for a while!) The Sears Wish Book is long gone, but the tradition of looking at toy catalogs and dreaming has continued as Emilio has begun to do the very same thing with the ads and flyers that pack our Altoona Mirror.

A year ago, I was completing reams of paperwork in preparation for my assignment by the ELCA to a Region and a Synod. I dreamed that I might be blessed to serve in a community like Martinsburg and a parish like St. Matthew, but I had no idea if those dreams ever could or would come true. Likewise, St. Matthew was dreaming that it might one day have a permanent pastor again and wondered if it was possible. Thankfully, our mutual dreams did come true because those dreams were God’s dreams. Their fulfillment, however, does not mean that our work has ended. In fact, it has only begun. In God’s dream, God has brought together pastor and parish with the challenge of proclaiming – and living – the Good News of Jesus Christ. As part of this, God is calling us now to fill our hearts and minds with new dreams – big dreams – for ourselves, our congregation and our community.

In the flicker of Advent candles, in the twinkling of Christmas lights, in the aroma of traditional foods and in the familiar yet ever-astonishing news that the King of Kings comes to us in a lowly manger, be listening for the Holy Spirit’s whisper as God pours new and thrilling dreams into all of us. At first those dreams might seem too big, too far-fetched or too incredible. But if they are God’s dreams, then they can and will come true. So, people of St. Matthew Lutheran Church: together with God and one another, let’s dream!

Living in Gettysburg exposed me to a great deal of Civil War history. It also exposed me to some of the arts, music and literature of that era. At this time of year, I find myself thinking of a beautiful poem entitled “The Vacant Chair” that Henry S. Washburn wrote and published in the midst of that conflict on Thanksgiving of 1861. The poem poignantly portrays a family that is mourning the death of a loved one in the Civil War. It was later set to music and became a
beloved song in both the North and South. The chorus states:

"We shall meet, but we shall miss him.

There will be one vacant chair.

We shall linger to caress him.

While we breathe our ev'ning prayer.”

This song resonates with me in this season because it reminds me of the many vacant chairs we will recall on November 6 during the festival of All Saints Sunday, during which we will remember all of the faithful departed of the church, but especially those who have passed during the last 12 months.

Washburn’s lyrics also remind me of the many vacant chairs that will surround our Thanksgiving tables. In the midst of all of the eating we will do on November 24 and all of the Christmas shopping and bargain hunting that will consume us in the days thereafter, we need to remember that there are people among us who are hurting because of a vacant chair.

All of us have either lost someone who is precious to us or we know someone who has experienced such a loss. So this November, especially during the feasting and shopping, please take time to remember and honor all the vacant chairs and the loved ones who once sat there. Remember and honor the pain you feel from those losses. Remember the good times too. But most of all, remember Jesus Christ, who in his death and resurrection conquered sin and death for us so that one day we will all be blessed to gather together again, this time with every chair filled.

A few weeks ago WPSU broadcast a documentary entitled “Our Town: Kane &Mt. Jewett.” The broadcast stretched over three hours, and included the sights and scenes of Kane, the town in which I was raised. Even the frequent breaks to solicit pledges and donations were entertaining because Kane “personalities” staffed the phone lines and engaged in silly, good natured ribbing and banter with the hosts. I was filled with equal parts joy and pride as I saw so many familiar places and the dear faces of treasured friends and acquaintances. The show reminded me of all the wonderful things that unite those of us – past and present – with ties to that small corner of McKean County. That’s not to say that Kane is perfect. Like any community, it has its problems and challenges. But it played a crucial role in forming who I am and so it will always claim a special part of me.

In a very similar way, I know that St. Matthew has that kind of effect on folks. There’s something about the carillon bells, the stained glass, and our distinctive, traditional form of Lutheran worship that provides a comforting, nourishing reminder of your formation. The timeless words from Holy Scripture that comprise our Liturgy, the melodies of familiar hymns, and the marvelous, mystical encounter with Christ that we are promised in the proclamation of God’s Word and the Sacraments of Baptism and Communion fill us with peace, warm our souls and testify that we are home. That’s not to say that St. Matthew Lutheran Church is perfect. Like any community, we have our problems and challenges. But for nearly two centuries, St. Matthew has played and will continue to play a crucial role in forming Christian disciples in the Martinsburg area and will always claim a special part of all who have the privilege of worshipping here, including those like me who have been blessed to be called to serve as Pastor of this remarkable congregation.

It’s no secret that during a pastoral vacancy, attendance falls. Folks drift away. Other things can so easily take the place that church once filled. In the last three months, through God’s grace, attendance has increased. People are coming back home, and for that I am deeply pleased. But we can all think of folks who at one time regularly attended St. Matthew but who we have not seen recently in worship. It might be a family member, a friend, a neighbor or a co-worker. Please invite that person to come back to St. Matthew. Please invite them to come back home.

Maybe that person is you. Perhaps you have been away for a time. And maybe, as you are reading this, God is stirring something in you, filling you with a holy longing to come back to St. Matthew. “But Pastor,” you might be anxiously thinking, “I’ve been away for so long. What are the people going to say to me?! What will you say to me?!”

I think our response will be quite simple. “We missed you. Welcome back to St. Matthew. Welcome home.” For here at God’s house, there is always a place at the table set just for you.

September is a month full of transitions. The days begin to shorten and the temperatures begin to moderate. But perhaps the biggest transition for all is the return to school. For students, this has obvious consequences: an alarm clock that blares much earlier in the morning, the “joy” of school lunches and, of course, homework. The transition is challenging for parents too, who have to adapt to a new schedule and, in some cases, adjust to a newly empty nest. Change can be challenging. But with change comes fresh, exciting opportunities to learn and to grow.

This September is a particularly odd one for me because I am not going back to school. For 26 of my 45 years of mortality – 58% of my life – I have spent September in a school of one sort or another. Kane, Clarion, Morgantown, Boston and Gettysburg were the places where each September I would take up my pencil (or pen or, more recently, laptop computer) and begin the joyful and challenging process of learning. This annual cycle of education has become so ingrained in me that the Staples “Back to School” sales generate genuine excitement in my heart. Highlighters for a dollar! Erasers for 5 cents! Spiral-bound notebooks for a dime! And then there’s that “new book” smell… Yes I know; this is more than a little strange…but the process of learning really excites me and I think God has blessed me with this thirst for knowledge as part of the call to ordained ministry that God issued to me.

When you were growing up, did you have a favorite teacher? I can think of a number of teachers in elementary school, middle school, high school and throughout college and graduate school who had a profound influence on me. They opened worlds of knowledge to me and helped shape who I am. I think of them often and thank God for gracing my life with so many talented and dedicated teachers.

With Rally Day approaching, I’m especially reminded of the many wonderful Sunday School and Vacation Bible School teachers who taught me the fundamentals of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and through whom God blessed me with faith and understanding. I’m sure they all had moments when they wondered if anything they were teaching was sinking in. It did! The truth they taught changed my life and the lives of many others.

And so I want to thank all who teach. Be it at a public institution, a private school, here at St. Matthew or within the walls of your home, I thank God for you and for the great and important work you are doing. It is hard work, work to which you have been called and prepared by God. You are a blessing to every student you encounter and you really do make a difference.

Praise God for teachers!