Trinity Lutheran Church

One of the greatest romantic comedy movies of all time is “When Harry Met Sally.”  In the movie, Billy Crystal’s character has a quirk where he reads the last page of a book first so that if he dies before he finishes the book, he knows how it ends.

Sometimes I wonder if that is how we deal with Holy Week, this week of the church year from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday.  We know the end of the story, Easter Sunday, where Jesus rises from the dead.  But we often forget about what occurs before then.  We forget about Maundy Thursday and Good Friday.  We read the last page of the book before we know the whole story.

But it is the details of the story that make the ending richer and more meaningful.  I can find out the score of a game, but if I don’t watch it or read about what happened to get to the final score, I don’t appreciate the win as much.  Think about the Badger win over Arizona to get to the Final Four.  It was a seven point win.  Yet, if I didn’t see the game or read about it, I wouldn’t know that the Badgers were down at halftime and that they had a remarkable second half to win the game.  It makes the win even more impressive.

Easter is about the resurrection of Jesus Christ, the final victory over sin, death, and the devil.  But it means even more when you realize what happened to get to Easter.  The gift of his body and blood through Holy Communion.  Betrayal.  Denial.  Trial.  Beatings and mockery.  Crucifixion.  Death.  So much that occurs that makes the ending even more amazing, fulfilling, and important.

I invite you to come and experience the whole story this week.  Join us for worship on Thursday and Friday at 7:00 pm.  If you can’t join us, read the story from the greatest book of all, the Bible. Start at Matthew 26:31 and read until you get to Matthew 28.  Don’t just read the last page.  Read the whole story.  It makes all the difference.

One of the items on Amy’s and I bucket list when we went to Washington, D.C. last week was visiting the United States Holocaust Museum. We scheduled it for the last day and gave ourselves a large amount of time to get through it. Being someone who has always been interested in the history of World War II, reading countless books, watching movies and television shows about it, I felt like I was readily prepared for the museum. I had seen much of the gruesome pictures and videos of the Holocaust. I knew what I was getting into before we started.

I was wrong. Touring the museum is not what I would call an enjoyable experience. Moving, yes, but the kind of moving that sticks with you like peanut butter sticks to the roof of your mouth. You see pictures going up three floors to showcase a community of Jews that had lived in the same place for hundreds of years that no longer exists. You stand in a railcar that held hundreds of people, carrying them to a death camp, and you can feel the fear they must have felt. . You walk into a room filled with shoes collected by the Nazi’s from those people in those railcars and not only does the sheer number overwhelm you, it is the SMELL of the shoes that really gets to you.

You feel such a sadness and you get lost in the midst of it all.  Time stops.  When Amy and I got done, we realized we had spent way more time in there than we realized.  The museum takes you from the very beginning, including anti-semitism from the rise of Christianity on, including some of the writings of Martin Luther, all the way to the rise of Hitler, the Holocaust, and the aftermath of the Holocaust.  Besides all the big picture stuff, it gives you a chance to read and hear the stories of individuals.  You can sit and read people’s accounts of being in the concentration camp.  You can read the stories of people who risked, and lost their lives, trying to help others.  You get a little booklet of the story of one person who was affected by the Holocaust.  You can read my person’s story at this link: http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/idcard.php?ModuleId=10006360

But the emotion I felt the most, the one that is still with me as I write this, is shame.  I feel shame.  Why?  Because so much of this could have been prevented.  So much of this could have been stopped.  And I’m not talking about at the beginning.  Throughout the war, the systematic destruction of human beings could have been halted, could have been slowed, maybe even stopped.  But it wasn’t.  Why?  Fear.  It was because of fear.

People knew what was happening and did nothing.  Governments, including our own, knew what was happening and did nothing.  The church, across denominations including our own, not only did nothing, but sometimes actively participated.  Neighbors did nothing.  Yes, there are many examples of heroic individuals and even communities who risked their lives to help, but on the whole, civilized people from around the world stood by and watched.  They watched because they were afraid.  They watched because it was not “their problem.”  The watched and did nothing.  It is downright shameful.

But the reason I feel shame is because, if I look inside myself, I can’t honestly say that I would have done anything.  I can’t honestly say, “I would have been different.”  I think the many of us would like to say, “I’d risk my life, my family’s life, to help someone, to make the madness and destruction stop.”  We would like to say that. I would like to.  Yet, even today, we see injustice and violence going on around us, big and small, and we often do nothing to stop it.  We see people getting degraded and bullied because they aren’t “cool” or come from the right place or have the right job or even have the right heritage.  Systematic slaughter still occurs around the globe and we often stand by and do nothing.  We demean people different from us even in our own backyards and we don’t stop it.  Because we are afraid.

As I left the museum and as I have reflected on my visit since then, I have mostly prayed to God a couple of things.  I have asked for forgiveness for all the times I stand by and do nothing when I know something should be done.  I have asked that we might, as people, work to stop injustice in even the smallest ways.  And I have prayed that, if something like this would ever happen again, that I would have the courage and the faith to stand up and speak out.

There are two quotes/images, that I want to leave you with.  One is from the very start of the museum and one is at the end of permanent exhibit.  The first is from the Bible.  The second, from a Lutheran pastor who was first a Nazi supporter and then an opponent who was sent to a camp.  I hope that they both stick with you as they have with me.  And, I hope you get a chance someday to go to Washington, DC, and not just experience all the wonderful monuments but also take an opportunity to visit the Holocaust Museum.  I think it is something that everyone should see.

I was talking with our high school students on Wednesday serving the meal when someone mentioned that they had given up something for Lent. The next day, again I heard someone say, “I can’t have that, I gave it up for Lent.” People have, during this time of renewal in faith and life, given up something for Lent as a sacrifice that mimics the sacrifice that Jesus Christ made for us by dying on the cross. It can be a very noble thing and if nothing else, I appreciate people thinking about their lives and their willingness to do a discipline during this holy season.

But then I think about this: will affect major change? After all, when I used to give up stuff for Lent, even I actually made it all of Lent without it, I couldn’t wait to have it again when Lent was over. If I gave up ribs for Lent, the day after Easter I’m sitting down at Famous Dave’s and having the XXL rack. I have a feeling that the majority of people who give up something for Lent will go to it when Lent is done. So is it really worth it? For some, it might be. For others, including myself, it really isn’t.

But you know what has been worth it for me over the years in terms of Lenten discipline? Taking something up. Not giving something up, taking something up. Here is an example. Instead of giving up coffee for Lent (if I drank it), give the amount that coffee costs to the poor. Instead of giving up video games or Trivia Crack for Lent, take five minutes every day to pray or read the Bible. Instead of giving up ribs, go for a walk or work out for 20 minutes. I have found that when I take up something for Lent, it has a much better chance of sticking as a habit that strengthens my spiritual, emotional, and physical life than giving something up.

This year, I have taken up trying to read the Bible for five minutes at the start of every work day. Sounds weird right, considering I’m a pastor and all. But though I spend a lot of time in God’s Word, it is often for a sermon or a Bible study or even one of these Trinity Tidings. I sometimes forget to read it just for my own personal faith. So I’m using our Bible passages found in the Good News calendar for my Lenten discipline that I hope will turn into something I do every day, long after Lent has ended.

No matter how you honor Lent, whether it is giving up something or taking up something, my hope is that you are orienting your hearts and minds to the work of your Savior Jesus Christ who has given you everlasting life and that you would be strengthened in faith during this time.

I have to admit, if I am honest with myself, that sometimes I have grave concern for the human race. Now, it isn’t like, “These kids these days are just so rotten” or “the United States is just going to pot and we have to go back to such-and-such a time.” Many of the issues we have in this world are issues that have been around for centuries and just keep coming back around.

But there are days when I am concerned and my soul and heart feel heavy. Days where all I see and hear hate being spouted towards others, days when it seems like all people want to do is tear down the other, or the neighbor, or even members of their own family. There are days when it seems no one is willing to listen to anything someone has to say, even if it is just to understand their point of view. And there are days when the quest to be “right” and to “win” seems to trumpet compassion, fairness, justice, and love.

However, then there are two days like the two days I had this week that restore my faith in humanity, faith that reminds me that love and compassion and generosity are not gone, days when I am astounded by the capacity of people to care for someone else, even a complete stranger. Days that remind me that God is still active and present in the world.

The first of those days was the Coaches vs. Cancer event on Thursday night around the JV & Varsity Girls Basketball games between Boyceville & Glenwood City. I was honored to be the announcer for the event and just amazed at all the items that were donated and the people who came out. As someone who has lost both parents to cancer and watched many friends battle it, every cent is so important. But even more important is letting those who struggle with it that they are not alone, that there are people supporting them, even complete strangers. Over $6,000 was raised in one night and the event was very well done. Though my voice was basically gone when I got home, my heart was full of hope and pride for what was accomplished by our two communities.

The second of these days was today (I’m writing this on the 7^th) as I got to participate in my first Polar Plunge. Last year I told Todd Ebensperger that I would love to be part of his plunge team for this year and so I joined up. I must admit that I was nervous about jumping, most especially being a fat man trying to get out of cold water. But when I went down to the event, I loved the positivity and all the great energy. I loved the sense of common purpose. I loved the big hug I got from one of the church’s Special Olympics participants, Brian Frieberg, both before and after the plunge. I loved our costumes as our team, Kayden’s Krusader’s (named for Todd & Teana Ebensperger’s son Kayden) were going as super heroes (I was Batman. Of course). I loved that I saw people of all ages there and loved that some of our congregation members were there to cheer us on.

I have to admit my adrenaline was pumping before we jumped and that, though cold, the initial plunge wasn’t too bad at all. It was a rush, especially as we sprinted back to get out of the wet clothes. But just hear the crowd cheering, to see Kayden and Susie and Brian in the audience, the people we were jumping for, just made it really, really fun and cool. Over $30,000 was raised and I know more is coming in and our team did our part, raising over $3,000, with $700 of that coming from many of you in donations to me.

The best part was seeing the smiles not only on the crowd, but on the participants. Of course, they were freezing, but they were also so jacked and full of spirit. It reminded me again of what can happen when people come together.

And that is the thing. We so often only see the negative in the world, live by fear and not hope. We only see the worst in the other or what bad might happen in a situation, instead of the possibilities and good things that might come. Events like Coaches vs. Cancer and the Polar Plunge remind us of the best of ourselves. They also remind me as a disciple of Jesus Christ that though I have days of despair, I also believe in a God of hope and a Savior who loves all.

May we live by hope, love, and compassion instead of fear, hate, and despair. For that we can say, “Thanks be to God!” Amen

As I watched the end of the Green Bay-Seattle NFC Championship game and the unbelievable way it ended, a question came into my brain that has popped up before a couple of times. The question is this, “What is worse: getting blown out or losing at the last second?”

I am someone who has experienced both many times as the majority of sports watching has been following losing teams. I remember sitting there in 2003 watching the National League Championship Series, thinking that my Cubs were going to go to the World Series being three outs away and watching it all collapse. I’ve seen numerous blowouts and decisive losses, like the 2006 Super Bowl with the Bears. I’ve watched my hockey team blow three goal leads in the third period to lose and get blown out by seven, which takes real work in hockey. I’ve experienced losing in every which way you can imagine.

So there is my verdict and it is based solely on emotional anguish. I would rather get blown out ANY DAY than lose in the last second. Let me tell you why. Sometimes you just aren’t good enough. You just aren’t and if you get blown out, especially in a playoff game, as the blowout happens, then I think to myself, “Hey, at least we got here. I’m going to be thankful for that and toast my team for a good season.” I remember when the Cubs beat the Giants in 2002 to go to the MLB playoffs. They played Atlanta next and they had no chance. None. And they got destroyed. But as I watched the games, I was just thankful they got there. No stress. No crying. No wailing. No anguish.

But when you get beat at the last second, holy cow is there anguish. What really makes it worse is the feeling that you were the better team or that you had it and just slipped out of your grasp. I’ve heard from a ton of Packer fans who keep talking how they were the better team last Sunday yet still lost. It is just the worst. And to make it all more destructive, you keep playing the game over and over and over in your mind. If this had happened, then we would have happened. If this hadn’t occurred, victory would be ours.

I think back to two very different Packer Bears game over the past year. The first was the last game of last season on December 29^th, 2013. The Packers were the better team but the Bears were leading and had a chance to sweep the Packers for the first time in a long time. We all know what happened. On fourth down with 48 seconds left, the Bears idiot safety decided to jump a route instead of covering Randall Cobb, who caught the winning touchdown. All I could think of was “why” and “what if” and that game bothered me for days. Weeks even. It was anguish. I especially loved reliving it last spring when the play was played over and over and over prior to the Men’s Choir concert. Thanks Kevin Bird. J

This year, the Packers blew the Bears out of the water. Destroyed them. No anguish. We weren’t a good team and the Packers were better. The games came and went and there was no dwelling, no replaying plays in my head over and over, no avoidance of sports radio, newspapers, or sports websites. Life went on fairly easily.

I know that many of you would rather have it the other way, would rather at least have a chance in a game, even if it ends up tearing your heart out like the bad guy in “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.” But for me, the question “What if?” is the worst question ever because there is no explanation and really, no relief. It just hangs there, forever, and haunts like a ghost.

Of course, in the end, it is just a game. There are so many other important things to worry about that cause us pain and anguish and so many other things that cause us joy and happiness. It is just a game. Right? Right?

May God be with you this week and always.

No matter where I go, you know what sports teams I follow by my car. On the side windows I have stickers for the Cubs, Bears, and Wild. Heck, you can even see my interests with Star Wars, Disney, and Jimmy Buffett stickers on there too. You don’t know how often I’ve gotten a honk or a wave because of the stickers on my car, and some of them weren’t even friendly!

But how do people know we are part of God’s team as disciples of Jesus Christ? Is it through a sticker on the car or a cross necklace around or neck or a bracelet around our wrist? Frankly, if I didn’t have the stickers on my car, no one would know my sports team allegiances unless I was wearing a shirt. They wouldn’t know unless they talked with me or heard me rooting during a game. Otherwise they would not have a clue.

How do people know you are a member of God’s team? How do people know that you are a disciple of Jesus Christ? Can they tell by your actions, your words, the way you conduct yourselves in the world? Sometimes people might not know at all, or if they do know and you make a big mistake, they could hold it against you. “I can’t believe that person says they are a Christian” is something you might hear.

The hope is that we live out our faith in a way in which others can see the love of God through us, not only in our actions but also in the way that we forgive, love, and accept others. Hopefully people will see us not as perfect but as flawed people who have been redeemed and saved by Jesus and extend compassion, not judgment, to others just as Christ has extended compassion to us.

But in the end, the only ones who need to be reminded that we are disciples of Jesus Christ is us. We need to remember that, in baptism, we are children of God. We need to remember every time we get up in the morning, every time we go to work, or to school, or to a community event, or even to the grocery store, we go as a loved and redeemed child of God who is washed in the grace, mercy, and love of God through Christ Jesus our Lord.

Because we often forget we who we are, who we belong to, who loves us unconditionally and promises to be with us always. We often forget what team we play for and who is rooting for us, who is lifting us up when we are low, and who rejoices with us when we win in life. For our greatest supporter is our Savior Jesus Christ, who dies for us, defeats sin and death for us, and rises from the grave to give us new life both in this world and the next.

You don’t need a sticker to know who you play for. You have the cross of Christ on your forehead. You root for, play for, and are supported by God’s team as a disciple of Jesus Christ. May you live life in a way that your faith inspires others and may you never forget who you belong too.

My Mom rarely asked me a theological question but I will always remember the first question she ever asked me.  It wasn’t on atonement theory or justification or transubstantiation or on the theology of glory or the theology of the cross.  It wasn’t even on sanctification or on the ontological nature of God (see how many big words I can use!).  Nope.  The first question she ever asked me was this: “Do you think dogs go to heaven?”

At the time, our dog Shiner had just passed away and my Mom called to tell me in tears.  She was in pain and hurting and my response, without hesitation, was “Yes.” I didn’t have any theological or scriptural evidence for that answer. But I still believe that answer is correct today, no matter what theology or anyone else says.

I thought of that on Friday as Amy and I said goodbye to our first dog, Henry.  Henry was eight years old and we drove all the way up to Finlayson, MN, to get him on a May afternoon at a farm when he just two months old.  I was the one who actually picked him out as Amy couldn’t decide between Henry and his brother.  We went to get him without a single supply: no collar, leash, dog bowl, toys, or food.  We stopped at a tiny Wal-Mart on the way back to get some of those things and one of those toys still survives to this day.  Amy held him all the way in the back seat of the car and a bond was formed that won’t ever be broken, in life or in death.

Henry was a good dog who loved freely and had the ability to charm everyone.  It seemed that everyone liked and loved Henry, from members of our family to the vets who cared for him to dedicated cat-people and even other dogs.  When we got our youngest dog Kapono, it was so that I might have a dog as Henry was clearly Amy’s dog.  Instead, Kapono became Henry’s dog and would follow him everywhere he went.

Henry loved many things, most especially Amy’s lap. But when he wasn’t on Amy’s lap, he loved to play with racket balls and until Kapono destroyed them all, his fuzzy toys.  He loved to be outside, to explore the yard, chew on sticks,  or lay on or under the hammock as Amy laid in it.  He loved walks and sitting on the porch with Amy, hardly ever getting off her lap.  He loved bananas and would almost try to take them out of my hand, even though he knew I would give him a small piece at the end of the banana.  He loved lettuce and popcorn and licking out a bottle of beer after it had been drunk.  About the only thing he didn’t like were baths, people on bicycles, and wearing the Santa suit we put on him every year at Christmas.

Henry had a great ability to know what you needed.  If you were sad, he knew just how to come up and give you comfort.  He loved to play when you were happy and knew just how to snuggle in when you were tired and needed a nap.  He loved people and often barked at them, not as a warning but as an invitation to come and pet him.  Henry had more tricks that I can list for getting you awake in the morning so that he could be fed and always knew the sound of my car or Amy’s car and would rush to the door to great us when we got home.

Henry always had health problems from the moment he was born.  He had multiple kidney stones that got stuck in his urethra that caused him to have two surgeries and because of this was on special food his whole life and had check-ups every three months or more.  He had Cushing’s disease, though never showed any symptoms’, and as we found out just before he passed, he had cancer, most likely of the liver.  Yet he was always happy, always good with the vet, and even on Thursday, as he was hooked up to an IV here at the house, had a smile of brightness despite his obvious sickness.

There is a part of my rational brain that wonders why I’m using 900 words to talk about a dog.  But my heart says that Henry (or any of the other dogs I have had in my life) was more than just a dog.  They are a member of my family, a member the gives and receives love, a member who brings comfort and joy, who is there for you in good times and bad, just like many human members of families.

All I know is this: every night when I would come up to bed, Henry would cuddle up to my chest for a few minutes before finding his normal spot either next to mine or Amy’s legs.  And every time I would feel, through that short cuddle, the love of God and the blessings of life, even in the midst of tragedy.  When my mind was full of anxiety or worry, that cuddle would calm and soothe me.  When the day had been good and bright, it would remind me to give thanks.  When I was filled with sadness and grief, it would bring me comfort.  If that is not a gift from God, I don’t know what is.  For God uses many ways and things to show us His love and I know Henry was one of those things, at least to me.

The next time my Mom asked me theological questions was as she approached the end of her life.  In the midst of our conversation about heaven, salvation, faith, and more, she again wondered if she would not only see her loved ones in heaven, but would she meet the pets she had loved in her life.  Again, I told her that she would and I knew that brought her comfort.

Thank you, Lord, for a great dog in Henry and for the love that he shared with Amy and myself and the love that we got to share with him.  And I’ll look for him when my time comes, to cuddle again in the splendor of heaven.

Thus says God, the Lord, who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and what comes from it, who gives breath to the people upon it and spirit to those who walk in it: 6 I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness, I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, 7 to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness. Isaiah 42:5-7

At the end of each 8^th grade confirmation class, I ask the students, “Who will pray for us today?”  Most of the time, they just look at each other in silence.  Sometimes someone might volunteer someone else.  Rarely does anyone jump up to volunteer.  Again, a majority of the time they sit and stare at each other, waiting for someone else to step up and do it.  They know we will not end class until someone volunteers.  Though there is a need, they all think someone else will do it, even if they feel moved to do it themselves.

In the reading from Isaiah above, we hear that we are called to be a servant, to be a light to the nations, to open the eyes of the blind and to bring out the prisoners.  In other words, we are called to serve.  It is in the very nature of what God, through the suffering servant Jesus Christ, has done for us.  Because we have been made righteous through Christ, we have been made to serve.

So often, though we feel a call to serve, to proclaim Christ crucified and risen, to work for the neighbor and the poor, we stop.  We wait.  We wait for SOMEONE ELSE to answer the call.  That wait is often caused by our own selfishness.  “Oh, someone else will take care of it.”  It is like seeing a dirty dish in a sink and instead of washing it, we just leave it there.  Even more so, when it DOESN’T get clean, we complain about it or wonder why someone hasn’t done it.

That is our struggle.  Not that we are called to serve, but that we actually ANSWER that call.  Instead of looking around like my confirmation students, wondering who is going to pray, we should jump up and answer that call.  After all, God HAS called us.  This is the same god who created us, who has saved us, and who promises to be with us always.  So what do we have to fear?  What stops us?  A sense of inadequacy?  Of wondering if it is our place?

The Lord has called you to be a light to the nations.  The Lord has called you to open the eyes of the blind.  The Lord has called you to set the prisoners free.  The Lord has called YOU.  Today.  Yesterday.  And everyday.

Answer that call.  Serve the Lord.  Love the neighbor.  Proclaim the Good News.  Be a light to the nations.  Thanks be to God!  Amen

Christmastime is often a time of traditions.  Every family has their own special tradition or traditions, whether it is a specific day, time, or way to decorate the house or Christmas tree, to baking cookies or other holiday treats, or activities and events that are attended every year.  In my family, we always went into downtown Chicago right near Christmas to shop, look at lights and other sights, and go to a show and a nice meal.  Still to this day, when I come home to IL after Christmas, we go into the city for a day, keeping that particular tradition alive.

Traditions are important things because they become touchstones in people’s lives and often they connect us to not only our present, but our past, and often will continue into the future.  For me, going downtown started with my grandparents and then continued with my parents and even though they are all gone now, when my sisters and I go into Chicago, I can feel and remember the years prior with those who are no longer with us.  We continue traditions to remember others, connect with each other, and pass on a part of who we are to the next generation when they experience the tradition for the first time.

Of course, the church is a place steeped in tradition.  From singing “Silent Night” in candlelight to certain activities and events, the church lives in tradition that connects us with the saints that have gone before us.  One of those traditions continues this week (and, actually, in an hour or so from me writing this) with lefse making.  Not being Norwegian, over my 12 years here at Trinity I have really enjoyed this tradition, and it is not just for the taste of the lefse!  I enjoy the fellowship of it, of seeing men and women (and sometimes children) together, teaching each other, conversing with each other, serving the Lord together.  The laughter that comes, the friendships that are made, the love that is shared, is what really makes these two days fun and special.  Even better, the group loves nothing more to welcome a new person in and become part of this Trinity tradition.

Of course, this week is full of other traditions as well, with the Silent Auction on Saturday, the Live Nativity late Saturday afternoon, and all the other activities in town this weekend.  I hope you will stop in and support our youth, buy some wonderful lefse and baked goods, and come by the Live Nativity to remember the true meaning of this season.

But most of all, I hope that you give thanks for your Christmas traditions and recognize that the Lord has blessed those traditions that connect us as family, friends, and children of God.  Never take them for granted and at the same time, never be afraid to start a new tradition either!  I got an idea for a new one: give the pastor bacon for Christmas!

May God bless you this day and always!

Give thanks in all circumstances . . .” 1 Thessalonians 5:18

For many people, Thanksgiving is about tradition. Your tradition might be to hunt in the morning and then get together for dinner in the evening. Maybe your tradition is going to Grandma’s house or Mom’s house. You might have the tradition of watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade or heading out late Thanksgiving night to get to Black Friday shopping early. You could have a tradition of playing cards or heading outside for a game of football. It might just be watching football and taking a nap (one of my traditions, actually). Again, for so many of you, beyond just the turkey and the trimmings, Thanksgiving traditions are paramount and super important.

But for some people, including myself, Thanksgiving this year will be different and traditions will be changed, altered, or not happening at all. I remember the first time we had Thanksgiving after my Dad died or the first time we didn’t go to Grandma Schmika’s. I remember my last Thanksgiving in IL and with my family, 2001, or the very first Thanksgiving I had without any family at all, while I was on internship in 2000. This year will be the first Thanksgiving since we were married where Amy and I won’t be spending it with any other family members, as her family is in Florida and mine is in Michigan. We will be on our own, which will be new and different and strange.

For many, things will be different this year. Often traditions will change because of death. Suddenly, a grandparent or parent isn’t there at the table or out in the hunting shack or in the car on the way to the mall. Maybe it is a child or an aunt or uncle that is missing. Maybe someone has gotten married and so Thanksgiving is spent at a different place or in a different way. Other circumstances also may be causing traditions to be different or changed. And, of course, there are people whose Thanksgiving is still another day where they struggle to feed themselves or their children or just find a warm place to stay for a night.

Having traditions is a big part of Thanksgiving, but sometimes we make those traditions into the only part of Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is not about the traditions, it is about giving thanks, even in circumstances that have changed and even on a day when Thanksgiving isn’t a day of happiness but sadness or struggle. We gather on Thanksgiving to give thanks to God for the gift of life and salvation through Jesus Christ. We celebrate Thanksgiving to give thanks to God for giving us strength to handle the difficult times of life and for the times of joy, peace and rest. We remember to give thanks not only for the stuff we see, but the people whom we have loved and been loved by in our life, whether they are next to us at the dinner table, a thousand miles away, or in the peace of God’s glory.

When Amy and I sit down at our table at noon (pausing the Bears game) for our first ever Thanksgiving dinner on our own, I will give thanks for her family gathered in Florida and mine in Michigan. I’ll give thanks for my parents and her mom in heaven. I’ll give thanks for our dogs and for the chance to be together, even if it is a little different this year. I’ll remember all those I know who will feel a void and sadness on Thanksgiving Day. And I’ll especially give thanks that in the ups and downs of the year, God has walked with me and kept me afloat when it felt like I might drown and laughed with me in the most joyous of moments. I will give thanks that Christ died for my sins and will one day bring me to everlasting life. And I will give thanks for Amy’s stuffing, the best I ever had. I don’t even have to share it with as many others this year!

Whether you will be celebrating Thanksgiving as you always have or you will be in a new reality with new traditions, I hope that you will pause and give thanks to God, no matter what. And, I hope you will remember that everything you see and have in this earth, including life itself, is a gift from the God who has created you, loved you, saved you, and will be with you always till the end of the age. For that we can say, every day and always, “Thanks be to God!”