In the back of many of our closets, there is a sweater that has seen better days. Perhaps it was a gift from a loved one, a favorite layer worn during a difficult season, or simply a garment that has grown thin at the elbows from years of faithful service. Individually, these pieces of wool and acrylic are artifacts of our personal histories—bits of "used up" material that the world might otherwise discard.

This Easter, however, we are looking at these old threads through the lens of the Empty Tomb.

For the past several weeks, our community has been engaged in a unique "harvest." We asked you to bring in those old sweaters, not to be thrown away, but to be carefully deconstructed. As we have unraveled these garments, we have been doing more than just reclaiming yarn; we have been considering the stories, the prayers, and the varied "places in life" that each contributor represents.

The Resurrection is not just a historical event we remember; it is a promise of transformation that we inhabit. It is the divine "Yes" to the idea that nothing is ever truly lost to God. By harvesting the yarn from our various lives—some of us coming from seasons of joy, others from seasons of grief or exhaustion—we are creating a visual testimony of what it means to be the Body of Christ.

As these harvested strands are woven, coiled, and layered into the four large-scale art pieces that will soon hang in our sanctuary, a beautiful truth begins to emerge. A single strand of yarn, pulled from a lone sweater, is fragile. But when it is combined with the textures and colors of a hundred other lives, it becomes part of a sturdy, vibrant tapestry.

This project mirrors our life together in Christ: We are a people of Grace abounding. Just as Christ was raised to a new and glorified body, we are taking the materials of our old selves and allowing them to be refashioned into a New Creation. When you look at the panels on our walls this Easter, I hope you don't just see art. I hope you see yourself. I hope you see the sleeve of the sweater you donated now acting as a ray of light or the collar of a friend’s cardigan forming the foundation of a new horizon.

We have brought something of ourselves to contribute to the whole promise of Resurrection. We have taken the discarded and found it to be the very material God uses to make all things new. In every knot, every braid, and every splash of color, let us recognize that we are being woven together into a story much larger than our own—a story that begins at an empty grave and stretches out into an eternal, colorful, and recycled hope.

Yours in the binding,
John Johns

We’re always trying to make space. We move furniture around in our home to reconfigure a room and make a little more space. At the end of a trip, we wonder how we ever fit everything in the suitcase in the first place, as we try to cram it all back in the bag. A few years ago, Lord of Life built an addition to make more space for worship, learning, hospitality, togetherness, and storage. We needed more space.

It happens in virtual ways, too. We try to carve out space in our calendars for time with friends and family. We buy an external hard drive or memory in the cloud so that we can free up space in our computer. We try to make more space in our hearts for patience, compassion, and kindness.

One of my favorite guitarists, Bill Frisell, is a master at creating sonic space. Jazz critic Jack Kenny, writing about his style, says, “Frisell's [sound] is grounded in openness. His playing blends jazz, Americana, folk, and experimental approaches into something spacious, warm, and unmistakably personal.” Inside his latest record, “In My Dreams,” Frisell even penned the following poem about space:

[ S p a c e C r e a t e ]
Create space.
Trust space.
Story space.
Listen space.
Forgiveness space.
Argue space.
Resolution space.
More space.
Less space.
Danger place.
Safe space.
Open space.
Play space.
Lonely place.
Peace space.
Lovely space.
The right space.
Space place.
Time space.
Outer space.
More space.
Big space.
Love space.

Church staff, council, and I have been working on our Ministry Site Profile (MSP) as we move forward in the call process for an Associate Pastor. This document has over seventy blank spaces to fill in information about our congregation. Space after space asks for details about our location, attendance, financial records, and references, as well as who we are, what we believe, where we’ve been, why we do what we do, what we hope for in a pastor, and where God is calling us in the future.

As we talk and write, there are many questions about space, too. While our physical spaces and the many ways we use our building and campus for ministry are important, the MSP also wants to know about our theological spaces, mental spaces, spiritual spaces, emotional and prayer-filled spaces. What drives us? How does the community view us? What are our strengths and growing edges? We wrote extensively about God’s presence here in our spaces and the ways we’re shaped by joy, collaboration, flexibility, invitation, wonder, welcome, inclusion, intentionality, integrity, and purpose. Space for all kinds of people and faith is a priority.

Jesus was always making space. Space at tables, in worship, in conversation, in community, through reconciliation, invitation, and healing. He wasn’t afraid to enter hostile spaces or holy places, and was eager to lead people to new spaces of justice and freedom.

God continues to dwell among us, inviting us into spaces of renewal and transformation. I’m hopeful that this Lenten season is freeing up space in your heart, soul, and mind as you are filled with the Good News of Jesus.

Always looking for more space to live, share, and celebrate,
Pastor Lowell

Listen to Bill Frisell play “When You Wish Upon a Star” here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1UA9HQlkOc
Jack Kenny’s article: https://www.allaboutjazz.com/in-my-dreams-bill-frisell-blue-note-records

Of course, it was the dog that first made me notice. The loyal companion with a heart on his forehead named Aloka (Āloka). He was once a stray dog wandering in India who began following the Venerable monks in India and then coming to America for the 2300-mile peace walk across the country. With the turmoil in our world, I was drawn to following their journey of spreading peace through unwavering commitment, strength, healing, and quiet presence. I needed this story and journey.

If you haven’t heard about the walk,19 Venerable monks walked from Texas to Washington, DC in 108 days. They walked 20 miles a day, mostly in a single line and often barefoot. A "venerable monk" is a title of high respect bestowed upon Buddhist monks (and sometimes nuns or Christian figures) known for their deep wisdom, virtue, and long-term commitment to spiritual practice. The term highlights their esteemed status, moral integrity, and role as dedicated guides in monastic life.

I needed to see the scenes of people gathering to welcome them with quiet gestures of peace, flowers, waves of joy, and tearful acknowledgement of their humble presence. The walk has been a reminder for me of the unwavering peace that the Holy Spirit weaves in our lives if we allow it to work in our hearts. Jesus promises us a divine, eternal, and inner peace in the midst of life’s storms, offering, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not let them be afraid” (John 14:27). I am holding fast to these truths.

Episcopal Bishop Mariann Budde, who helped the monks host an interfaith reception at the end of their walk, said, “Their long journey and gentle witness invite us all to deepen our commitment to compassion.” How can we carry peace in our footsteps and spread compassion to all those we encounter as a witness to God’s love? In a world where division is so prevalent, how beautiful that a multitude of faiths can come together in the name of peace and community.

Traveling beside the monks, always quietly teaching without words, was Aloka. Through his gentle presence, people learned that healing doesn’t always speak. Sometimes it sits or walks beside you, reminding you of love and peace. God is our ever-present comfort and guide on our journey. Like the meaning of Aloka (illumination, and positive energy), our heavenly Father brings vision and clarity to light our way.

In gratitude,
Angie Seiller, Director of Faith Formation

Dust has power.

I was a baby when Mount St. Helens erupted. I grew up hearing stories of the weeks-long impact it had as far east as our North Dakota prairie home. It took several days, but eventually this fine, silt grey dust made its way across the spring prairie. Sitting on cars, lightly tinting the flower blooms, changing the smell of the valley from its usual thick, black, muddy earth smell to the slightest metallic scent.

And what it did to the sunsets. Prairie sunsets are already among the most majestic of God’s creation. So flat you can see the curve of the earth, the light stretches itself endlessly over the rounded sky, touching the black earth in spring, making the wheat dance with amber flecks in summer, and reminding us we are not in control as the winter wind lifts crystals that sparkle at dusk.

But in 1980, dust filled the sky, creating dark bursts of red, followed by long, lingering purple brushstrokes as the earth curved into eternity. Sunsets people have talked about for 45 years—can you imagine?

It was the dust. Powerful dust that was pressed out by the heat of the earth, four states away, floating over mountaintop peaks. This dust of the earth traveled half a continent. It covered every square inch of land. It filled the skies and changed the sunsets. Dust can change the sunsets… That’s the power of dust.

This week, we hear the words, “you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” The dust within us is made up of minerals from the earth. Elements landed on the planet as a result of cosmic collisions billions of years before any child of God ever took breath.

We are dusty creatures…. We travel the continent, covering every square inch of land. And yes, we, dusty children of God, change the sunsets—in our love for one another, when we remind another to cast their eyes to the sunset and see it. When we share life and beauty and joy, we dusty creatures change the very planet from which we came.

Dust is powerful.
We, dusty souls, beloved by God, are powerful. It’s nothing short of miraculous that the collection of dust that makes up our being—from iron of asteroids and calcium deposits once buried deep—received the breath of God, became filled with life, and formed into us. People gathered together to be fed with the bread of life.

And it is no less miraculous that any one of us, wandering this dusty temporary home, finds ourselves here with other dusty beings and shares time in this fleeting, beautiful life with them. That we share hopes, memories, and God’s undying love with one another—knowing each one of us will one day lay down, release our last Holy Spirit-filled breath, and return to dust.

But that’s really what makes life life, isn’t it? Filling our dusty, Holy Spirit-filled, grace-drenched lives with love for others because Christ first loved us.

Changing sunsets.
All of us dusty beings finding one another together in this place is as miraculous as any one of those little dust particles from Mount St. Helens swirling in the air of the North Dakota prairie, changing the sunset, before landing by another dust particle and tinting the orange blossoms of a daylily in my childhood garden.

Remember, you are dust. Remember how powerful and miraculous dust is.

Change the sunset-
Pastor Tracy Paschke-Johannes

Love is in the air this week at Lord of Life Christian Preschool with our Sweetheart Dance, Valentine’s parties, and Teacher Appreciation Week. I walked into a preschool class today for the Valentine’s party and heard one of our teachers asking the students what makes them feel loved. They responded with the most beautiful and thoughtful answers. One preschooler said when his friends share with him at playtime. Another said being home with his mom and dad. Another preschooler said snacks.

The parents arrived and the students were eating a special Valentine’s snack. The room fell quiet as it does when children are eating donuts and cupcakes, so the teacher asked the questions again, but this time to the adults. What makes you feel loved? The room got even quieter. We stood there staring at each other; what makes me feel loved? The answers to this question came flowing easily and naturally to our children, but the adults? We were stumped.

I began to reflect on an earlier lunch conversation about love languages. Love languages are the ways we express and receive love. Dr. Gary Chapman highlights 5 main love language categories in his book: words of affirmation, quality time, receiving gifts, acts of service, and physical touch. A teacher and I were discussing how my husband packs lunches for our family each day. Another teacher asked if this was his love language. I said yes, he enjoys cooking and baking. He writes lunch notes to our daughters and bakes a custom request birthday cake for each birthday. Thinking about this conversation I can quickly identify my love language as gift giving.

I express love by gift giving, but I find it much more difficult and thought provoking to think of how I best receive love. Thinking back to the silence in that room, I am not the only one. After lots of awkward silence and thought, it came to me. I feel most loved when I receive help that I didn’t ask for. I’m not great at asking for help, but I feel calm, at ease, and loved by my friends and family when they notice I need something and jump in with support.

I challenge you this Valentine’s weekend to spend time thinking about you. What truly makes you feel loved? When we feel loved, when our bucket is full, we are able to share so much more love with the ones around us. Remember, “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” (1 Corinthians 13:4-8 & 14)

With Love,
Nicole Wells
LOLCP Director

“Facts are the cornerstones of reality. At least, they used to be. In today's ultra-polarized environment, however – marked by deep political divisions, heightened social tensions, and a deluge of misinformation and fake news – facts are rather less certain in people's minds than they once were.”

This quote from Peter Dockrill, in the Australian online science journal Science Alert (www.sciencealert.com, Feb 1, 2021), confirmed what many of us have suspected and witnessed: facts don't hold the weight and certitude they once did.

Dockrill argues, “If you really want to stand a chance of changing somebody's mind on a serious topic, there's something else you should be telling them: Your own personal experiences.”

This has always been the strategy of the Christian faith – testimony. From the beginning, those who encountered the living God shared their own experiences, declaring what they knew to be true. Over and over, first person accounts of redemption, forgiveness, reconciliation, healing, and even resurrection moved skeptics and naysayers to belief. Those who saw, heard, and tasted the goodness of God could speak with assurance after experiencing the presence of the living God.

Personal experiences are what constitute much of our Holy Scripture. The Bible is a journal filled with people sharing their God encounters.

The leper couldn’t keep their mouth shut after Jesus’ cleansing touch (Mark 1:39-45), but recounted their story while displaying their renewed skin for all to see. Zacchaeus was so overwhelmed by Jesus’ presence and forgiveness that he made amends with all he had scammed (Luke 19:1-10).

A Samaritan woman went to the well to draw a bucket of water, but also found her heart filled with living water when she encountered Jesus (John 4:1-42). John tells us, “Many Samaritans from that city believed in Jesus because of the woman’s testimony.”

After experiencing a “great light from heaven” which called him by name, the prolific persecutor of Christians, Saul/Paul, became one of the greatest missionaries and disciples of Jesus, telling stories of hope and freedom grounded in Christ. (Acts 22 and beyond).

What’s your story? How have you encountered God? When have you been overwhelmed by the presence of the Creator in creation? When has Jesus walked with you or a loved one? Have you heard the still small voice of the Holy Spirit? How do you share these stories with your family, friends, and strangers?

Sharing our encounters with the living God is so central to what we do at Lord of Life that we’ve included it in our mission statement – “live, share, and celebrate!” Yes, sharing includes offering our time to serve God and neighbor. And yes, sharing involves being generous with our finances, but it also demands that we tell the stories of faith. We not only share the biblical stories and those who have gone before us, but also share what we have seen with our eyes and hearts.

I love to tell the Story,
Pastor Lowell Michelson