This sermon was preached on June 21, the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost, at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL). You can watch the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin. The image is Tango, one of our Bible Buddies from Vacation Bible School.
Friends in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
- As we approach the celebration of our nation’s semiquincentennial, we are forced to admit that we have never used nor heard the word “semiquincentennial” in our lives. What does one gift for a 250th anniversary, anyway? Plutonium? As we approach this milestone, we are also forced to admit that our nation’s political discourse rarely matches the lofty levels in which it was born; it has largely descended into farce. At least our soccer team is doing well, right? If there is any meat, so to speak, in our politics, it has to do with affordability. The word has buzz because fewer and fewer people have it. More and more people are getting by with less and less, even as the opulent abundance of our society proliferates; the dream so many were promised is becoming illusory. Even right here in Oak Park and River Forest, where we value welcoming all, it is harder for those lower on the socioeconomic ladder to make a home. More and more, folks are asking, Can we afford this? Is it worth it? Is that too high a price to pay?
- Into this world of scrimping and saving, of worry and fear, comes Jesus. He, too, has something to offer. A life of persecution and discord; of familial disunity; of cross carrying and life losing. The cost is high and Jesus seems unconcerned with affordability. He has not come to bargain. This is it; take it or leave it. If you’re not interested, if you’d rather maintain the status quo, well, that’s fine. But try as you might to hang on to your life as it is, you will inevitably lose it. Jesus’ words are full of warning; if we continue in sin, it will not be kept secret. We are not above our Master, and we are not able to hide what we do, individually or as a nation, from the God who sees everything. Jesus comes not with peace but with a sword, calling us to put him above all others. When it costs so much to follow, can we afford to pay so high a price?
- Where then do we turn; whither is our hope? This past week, Grace left Chicagoland behind and travelled to Rainforest Falls, the setting for this year’s Vacation Bible School. There were many highlights; I enjoyed leading songs and games. My most vivid memory is of a young boy who came up to me and, apropos of nothing, pointed his finger in my face and said, “old.” Nearly 100 of us, from three-year-old children to volunteers in their eighties, spent the week together exploring the nature of God. While we weren’t parsing the Athanasian Creed or pondering the works of the Cappacodian Fathers, we did get to the heart of the matter. Each day was centered in a foundational claim about who God is. God is our creator. God knows everything. God is our safe place. God is love. God is forever. To each of these, we would make our affirmation: “Wow, God!” Of course, as our gospel reading makes clear, being known by the creator God is not yet good news. The God who counts our hairs and sees the sparrows is well aware of the many ways we have fallen short. God sees the rank inequality we have brought into this world that was meant to have enough for all. But as we affirmed for the children throughout this week of VBS, God’s nature does not begin with knowledge. It begins, and for that matter ends, with love.
- In the light of God’s love, the question then becomes not, can we afford to pay so high a price? Rather, we ask, can we afford not to? Because here’s the thing: While following Jesus costs us our lives, it is only in following Jesus that we find the new life that really matters. The cost is fronted by Jesus, who goes to the cross on our behalf. In his dying, we meet our end. In his rising, we are raised. And we are raised not simply into more life, but into a life that is categorically different from the one we lived before. At the beginning of each funeral held in this space, we hear Paul’s words from Romans 6: “For if we have been united with him in a death life his, we will certainly be united him in a resurrection like his.” These words of promise are dripping with baptismal hope. In the face of death, we find life. Through the cross we emerge with Jesus from the empty tomb. But these are not words meant only for the end of our earthly life. They are words that shape our earthly living, because if we have been joined to the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, how can we go on living in the old life of sin and death. Should we carry on as before, Paul asks? By no means! The God who created us, who knows everything, intends us for so much more. This God made us for love. We cannot afford to live any other way.
- On this Father’s Day, Jesus’ words about familial relationships strike an interesting chord. I treasure my children; has Jesus come to set us against one another? No. Jesus comes to call me, and them, to himself first. Our relationships with one another can only by whole and holy and healed when Christ is at the center. In giving ourselves up into God’s love, we find our relationships transformed, fitting us for the purposes God intends for within our households and beyond. During VBS, at the end of each morning, I would ask the kids if they’d had any “God sightings,” if they’d seen or heard or felt God that day. One day, a young boy said, “I see God everywhere around here, because everyone here is made in God’s image.” Amen to that. When we receive one another through Jesus Christ, we see Jesus Christ in one another.
- Today, Jesus calls us again. Calls us to take up our cross and follow him. We are mindful of our purpose statement that shapes both our worship and work: Called by Christ, we grow in grace, live with love, and go to serve. It is a call that costs us everything yet is free for everyone. The Christ who calls us is the One who died and was raised for us. You are forgiven. You are no longer bound by this world’s inequality but are free to live in service to your neighbor in need. You are dead to sin and alive in Christ. Continue in sin? By no means! We can’t afford that. But the new life in Christ is free. We lose nothing worth keeping. We gain everything worth having, for we gain Jesus himself. Take up the cross and follow, and in following find the free gift of life. Amen.
And now may the peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, this day and forever. Amen.
This sermon was preached at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on June 14, the Third Sunday after Pentecost. You can watch the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin. The photo, of Greta and me, is from the Mumford & Sons rain-delayed concert at Wrigley Field on June 11. Like me, they like to quote Auden.
Friends in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
- I spend a lot of time in the car, visiting folks and driving my kids all over creation. I could use this time to listen to podcasts or audio books, but my preference is local radio. So it is that I hear a lot of commercials. My current favorite is for a bank. We hear from a grandma and her grandson. She is preparing to go to the bank because she’s heard banks are now using “fakey smartness” and she wants to prove that she’s real. Her grandson assures her that not only is that not what artificial intelligence is for, but that this particular bank can be depended upon to provide excellent care by actual human beings. Grandma isn’t sure that’s right; she prepares for her visit by asking her grandson to pinch her. He does so, weakly, to which she responds by giving him a hard pinch. What could be more real than the reaction elicited by a pinch? It’s a cute commercial, meant to reassure listeners that – in a world where so much seems fakey, in which so little can be depended upon – there are still people who care. And who will give you a good loan rate so you can remodel your kitchen.
- We live in a time of such uncertainty that a recent issue of The Christian Century posed these questions on the cover: Does God exist? Do I? These questions are foundational, and of deeper importance than where to get a good rate on a home equity loan. The article itself is a lovely mediation on Thomas Aquinas’s five proofs for the existence of God as read through the author’s gender identity, and I commend it to you. But it’s the questions themselves that jump off the cover. Does God exist? Do I? What is real? What can be trusted? What in this world isn’t fake?
- We begin today by remembering that God is not a fact to be proven, a philosophical argument to be won. God’s reality is relational. God is the One who comes to us in relationship, who comes to us in promise, who comes to us to save us. We do not come to God with proofs. God comes to us in love. When the people groaned under the weight of 400 years of suffering and slavery in Egypt, God – I AM who I AM – comes to them. Ends their time of oppression. Brings them out toward the Promised Land. On the way, they come to Mt. Sinai. God blesses them with the covenant, chooses them as God’s own. They are now and forevermore God’s treasured possession, a priestly kingdom and a holy nation. But they are not saved for themselves; they are brought forth to be a light to the nations.
- In the fullness of time, God makes good on the promise of that covenant by creating the new covenant, expanding to the Gentiles, sealed in the blood of Jesus Christ. In his dying and rising, we are chosen by God as God’s own. In faith we cling to the grace of God, grace freely given. We do not boast. We have done nothing to deserve it. God simply chooses to come to us in our weakness, in our sin, and make us God’s own. This grace comes today to Owen, child of God forever, just as it has come to each of you. Can you believe it? How could you not?
- Like the people of God’s first covenant, we are not saved for ourselves. Instead, we are called and we are sent. Perhaps here we have a clue that this promise is worth believing, because it is so different that world’s promises. God’s promise of life is abundant and overflowing, on both sides of the grace, but it is not an invitation to a life of ease, as made clear by this litany of negative outcomes in Matthew 10. It is not the ground floor of an IPO promising trillions to the few while the rest of the world groans. It is not a free pass out of this world but the promise that Christ is with us in this world that he still so desperately loves. It is not easy work. When we proclaim the gospel, when we serve others humbly, when we work for justice and peace, we will often be resisted. Rejected. But in this suffering, we gain endurance, and character, and the only hope that does not disappoint. In our faithfulness to the One who has called and chosen us, we become not proofs, but signs of God’s loving presence for others.
- The life of discipleship is the life of the gospel, the good news that in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we who were dead are alive, forgiven, free. Our daily lives, shaped even by suffering and challenge, are part of that pattern. We let go of our false dreams, our need to create for ourselves, and receive from God the truest thing of all: God’s presence with us always.
- At our most recent synod assembly, the gathering of the ELCA throughout the metro Chicago area, the preacher spoke of the many times he has heard about how the church needs to bring in more young people. And of course, the preacher agreed with that; who wouldn’t want the pews of our churches to be full again like they were years ago? Full of families who place faith at the center of their lives? Still, the preacher shared that he’s begun to bristle a bit when such talk begins. After all, he wondered aloud, “What’s wrong with us?” His point is not that we don’t want others to come and be part of the fellowship we share; his point is simply that we do not wait for others to show up before we start to act like the church. We, as we are here assembled, are enough. For Christ is here, and Christ is enough. And, by the way, that goes for all of us. If you’re the sort of person who follows the religious news, you know that this has been a time in which some Christians are doubling down on patriarchy, tightening rules to make sure that women are kept quiet in churches and out of pulpits. Well, the most loving thing I can say about that is, balderdash. Any Bible-believing Christian should know full well that the first preachers of the gospel were the women on Easter morning. Friends, you are all part of the enough-ness of God’s people gathered here today, without exception. Not half of you. All of you.
- We are sent into a broken world, and we are broken, too. What of it? We worship Christ, broken for you, and he is enough. So go, be the church. In the word of the poet Auden, “love your crooked neighbor, with your crooked heart.” Does God exist? We can do better than that. God is here. In water and Word, bread and wine, Christ is fully present. Do you exist? We can do better than that. For the sake of Christ, crucified and risen, you aren’t just real. You are fully alive. You are alive, but you are not your own. Saved by Christ, you are sent into the world. You are a sign of the living God and God is not done yet. Can we believe it? How could we not? Amen.
And now may the peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, this day and forever. Amen.
This sermon was preached on Trinity Sunday at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on May 31. The image is The Creation by James Tissot (1896-1902, public domain). You can watch the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin.
Friends in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
- While this does not happen intentionally, it is often the case that Trinity Sunday at Grace is also Youth Sunday, that delightful day of the year when our young people lead us in worship. This year, due to the liturgical calendar and the timing of high school graduation, we missed by a week. Next week, we’ll get to hear from an amazing young preacher. But that leaves me in the pulpit today, tempted to do what our young preachers are always wise enough to avoid: explain God. What does it mean to say that God is three-in-one and one-in-three? How can such bad math be at the heart of our confession? Such talk about God can be dangerous, always dancing on the edge of heresy, if not diving right into the deep end of it. We are tempted to reduce the Triune God to one god with three ways of being in the world. Or to erase the Triune name in favor of activities, Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer, instead of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And God does engage in many activities, does create and redeem and sustain us. But none of this gets us where we need to be, and all of it leaves us with a much-reduced image of the God in whose image we are made. It’s a little bit like trying to pour the ocean into a coffee cup. You’re left with a little bit, but the mystery and majesty are gone.
- Perhaps Trinity Sunday is not so much an opportunity for us to speak about the Triune God as it is an invitation for us to listen the Triune God who speaks to us. We find ourselves, here on the first Sunday after Pentecost, at the feet of Jesus as he is about to ascend to his Father’s right hand, to assume his place of authority over this world. His parting words to his disciples, to us, are not an explanation. His words are a command, a commission. “Go, therefore,” he tells us. Because all authority in heaven and earth belongs to Jesus, just so are we sent in that power to proclaim Jesus to others. To make disciples, and to do so in the Triune name. This authority, this power, invoked by Jesus is not power as it is wielded in this world. It is not the power of a dictator who oppresses others. It is not a small, selfish power that holds tightly to whatever it can. It is a power that lives to give itself away. A power whose strength is love; the very love that exists within and overflows the Triune relationships between Father, Son, and Spirit.
- Jesus sends us to others, which is what he’s been doing all along, of course. Not long before his death, Jesus tells his friends where he will continue to be found. Not on a lofty throne but in the needs of others. In the great parable of sheep and goats, Jesus locates himself in the hungry and thirsty, with the stranger and naked, among the sick and the imprisoned. The power of the Kingdom of Heaven is service, not spectacle. Less UFC fight on the White House lawn, more setting aside violence in the victory of peace. Jesus speaks. Go, he says, and continue to find me where I always am. First in water and Word, bread and wine, and then in one another. For it is in them, as in you, that Jesus chooses to dwell. For God has spoken, declaring that you who were sinful are now forgiven; that you who were dead are alive.
- God has forever been the One who speaks and makes things new. This isn’t the back-up plan; it is how God has always been. In the beginning, in the midst of nothingness and chaos, God begins the divine work, the Triune relationships overflowing and making room for creation. The Spirit broods. The Word goes forth. God creates, and what God creates is good. God’s Word, from the very beginning, is a justifying word. God creates and declares the divine handiwork good. God creates and declares you good. And when we in our sin attempt to undo this work, God speaks again: For the sake of Jesus Christ, you are forgiven and you are made new. God’s Word doesn’t simply describe. It does what is says.
- You, friends, are baptized. Marked with the cross of Christ, sealed by the Holy Spirit, children of the same heavenly Father, you are welcomed into the very life of God. Here, there is room for all. So much so that God is not done but sends you now to others. As the preacher Matthew Skinner writes, “Jesus presents baptism as part of the process of adding collaborators and accomplices to a movement that places mercy and compassion at its core.” Baptism, “calls the baptized to action and promises them divine empowerment for that action.”
- In just a few minutes, the feast of the Triune God will again be spread before you. How this works is, of course, another mystery. But not every mystery needs solving. Years ago, when we were living in South Carolina and Greta was about two years old, she spoke up from the back seat as we were driving home from worship one Sunday. “Daddy,” she said, “I want the Jesus bread next week,” I knew in that moment that she understood as much about the sacrament as anyone else, as if it’s our understanding that matters most. And she’s been receiving Holy Communion ever since. We may not understand fully the inner workings of the sacrament; in fact, I’m not sure I’d trust anyone who says they do. But we know in faith that Jesus is present in the Jesus bread, and in the wine, too. And we know in faith that this meal welcomes us into the divine dance, for the Son gives us to Father and Spirit. The mystery is not meant to be solved but lived. The majesty is not meant to be parsed or diagrammed but worshipped and praised. While the God who gifted us with intellects no doubt delights in our efforts to comprehend, in the end our faith is less to be understood, more to be shared. For the Word that still speaks is alive in us. God has put the Word in our mouths, on our lips, as we speak grace and peace into this broken but still good world that God still loves. So come and eat. Then go and tell. You belong to God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And this good news, like the Triune God, is too big to contain. So go, andknow that Christ is with you in all things and at all times, until the end of the age. The end of all things, when our need to understand shall give way to the full presence of the Trinity, in whose loving life we will live forever. Amen.
And now may the peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, this day and forever. Amen.
This sermon was preached at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) at the memorial service for Rhea Sprecher on May 2, 2026. You can view the livestream recording and the bulletin.
Alleluia! Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!
Friends in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
- Rhea, as we all know, was one of a kind. She was larger than life. Her life was too big for just one home. Not that she owned multiple properties, but that she insisted on maintaining her membership and very active involvement at Grace, in spite of living in an entirely different state. Why not move closer? Well, there are any number of reasons, but I believe that she just couldn’t bear to move away from her beloved Green Bay Packers. When she was prevented from making the drive to Grace on Sunday mornings, first by the pandemic and later by her health, she would sometimes send me brief emails after worship: “Good sermon, Pastor; let’s go Packers.” And yes, Rhea, I am wearing the Packer socks you gave me. Of course, Rhea’s home was about more than location. She was always at home in the world of art, and, more amazingly, had the knack for making students of all ages at home there, too. What a treasure she has been for the people of Grace, opening our eyes to see what might have remained hidden from us. But even more, wherever she was, in Wisconsin or Illinois, in Iowa or Michigan, or the museums and vineyards of Europe, Rhea was always at home with the God who makes God’s home with us.
- We gather this morning in our grief that our friend, Rhea, is no longer here. Our tears are holy, our memories treasured. In the midst of our sorrow, Jesus speaks: “Do not let your hearts be troubled.” In the way she lived her life, Rhea helped us to her these words, helped us to see the beauty of God’s presence. Not because she lived a life without trouble or difficulty, but because she knew from where her hope and help would always come. Jesus goes on to say, “Believe in God, believe also in me.” Rhea’s life was a life of unwavering faith, painted in baptismal waters, lived in the rich palette of her Creator and Redeemer. Rhea was steadfast, holding fast to the God who was holding on to her. In all places and through all things.
- We gather in this Eastertide, two worlds visible to us. Yes, we still see the old, sad colors of sin and evil and death. But with eyes of faith, we see a new work coming to fruition and fulfillment. A new vision of grace and hope, mercy and love. A world of joy and peace in which all people are invited into the joy of the Master. For Jesus himself has come among us. In our doubts and questions, we wonder: Where are you going Jesus, and what will happen to us? Jesus speaks to us as he spoke to Thomas: I am the way, and the truth, and the life. I am the presence of God the Father. I am your home and I make a home for you forever. I am the One who sets out the feast of the world to come, with rich foods and champagnes even better than the best of Europe. I am the One who is present for you here, now, in this feast of my own body and blood. As Jesus speaks these words to us today, we rejoice that in the resurrection Rhea hears now these words no longer mediated through the gift of the church, but directly from the voice of her Savior and Shepherd, in whose presence she now dwells forever in the glory of God.
- Rhea helped us to see, but she also helped us to show. Each Christmas, our worship bulletins feature the artwork of the children of Grace. Scenes of angels and shepherds gather around the Virgin and her newborn baby boy. Rhea helped the students understand and love this art, and made the children believe that they could be artists, too. She helped them share the good news of Jesus with others. In the same way, her steadfastness and perseverance show us a way forward even in our grief in this work-in-progress world.
- Today, we gather with grief and sorrow, but we also catch a glimpse of the life of resurrection that is unfolding for us. Here, in this place she loved so much, with people who loved her so much, we are reminded that we are met by the crucified and risen Lord Jesus. He has come into this world to make a home with us, and to be for us the way home forever. In the truth of that life, abundant and eternal, we give thanks for Rhea and unleash our Alleluias to God. Death is dead and Christ is alive. Death is dead and, in Christ, Rhea is alive. Death is dead and we, too, shall live. In the hope and artistry of our God, we go forward from this moment with hope alive in our hearts. Amen.
Alleluia! Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed. Alleluia!
And now may the peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, this day and forever. Amen.
This sermon was preached at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on May 3, the Fifth Sunday of Easter. You can watch the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin. The photo of Grace’s cornerstone was taken by me, just now.
Alleluia! Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!
Friends in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
- I’ve never been to Ireland, which is a shame considering I lived right across the sea in Scotland for a year. But I do hope to go one day, if only to live out the old joke in real life. Perhaps you know the one. I’d like to get lost and ask a farmer, “How do I get to Dublin?” Hopefully, the farmer would know the punchline: “Well, if it’s Dublin you’re wanting, I sure wouldn’t start from here!” Sometimes the problem isn’t where we’re trying to go, it’s where we are right now. That’s certainly the issue for Thomas in that upper room in Jerusalem on the night before Jesus’ death. Jesus, having shared a meal and washed their feet, now tries to get his friends ready for what’s coming next. Do not let your hearts be troubled; yes, I’m going away, Jesus says, but I go with a purpose. To prepare for you a dwelling place. You’ll know how to follow. Thomas, trapped like the rest of us in the dead end of sin and death simply cannot see a way forward. Dwelling places, Jesus? Sounds nice, but I don’t think we can get there from here.
- While I don’t keep statistics, I’d guess that I’ve preached on this passage, or the first half of it, anyway, more than any other from the gospels. Perhaps you wondered why it sounds familiar, or perhaps you made the connection right away. John 14 is often chosen to be read at funerals and memorial services, and with good reason. In the midst of deep sorrow and grief, Jesus’ words cut through with great comfort. In the face of death itself, Jesus proclaims that our hearts need not be troubled. He has come to make a way for us. Just yesterday, these words gave comfort as we gathered in this room to give thanks for Rhea’s life, and to proclaim that in the face of death, life wins out. But sometimes, I think, we make the promise too small. Yes, Jesus makes a way for us to get from here to there, but we are left wondering if there has anything to do with here. The promise of eternal life is at the very heart of the gospel, but it is not the gospel in its entirety. When the Good Shepherd describes the life he has come to give to his sheep, Jesus does not say that he has come to bring life eternal. Instead, as we heard last week, he brings life abundant.
- Thomas, uncertain of how anything good can come out of the suffering and death in which they live, gives voice to our wonderings and doubts. Even on this side of Easter, we have our questions. It seems, after all, as if so much remains the same. Violence and war rage on. Sickness and suffering endure while health care becomes more elusive for many. Material abundance is all around us, but life feels somehow harder than before. For some, our calendars are so full that life is an endless logistical puzzle, leaving little time for real connection. Others have been forgotten, neglected, leading lives of isolation and loneliness. J.R.R. Tolkien, through one of his characters, speaks for us: We feel thin, stretched, “like butter spread over too much bread.” And the truth of the matter is that we have brought ourselves to this point. We like to imagine that we have the power to chart our own course, create our own destiny. But we have lost the way. How to get there from here?
- The how, it turns out, is a who. Jesus enters our suffering, assumes our sin, endures the consequences to our actions, to show us that our ways can never lead to life, let alone to the abundant life God desires for us in both this world and the next. Our old lives go with him to the cross and are left behind in the tomb. We cannot, Jesus makes clear, find our own way to God, to life. We are simply too far gone. But Jesus makes it equally clear that we no longer have to find our own way. Jesus is the way. The destination has come to us. The earliest Christians were known as the people of “the Way.” Frederick Buechner, musing upon what a Christian is, writes of this way: Jesus “said that it was only by him—by living, participating in, being caught up by, the way of life that he embodied,” that we would come to know the life and presence of God. The gift of eternal life is promised to you. It cannot be taken away. In this promise is an invitation to reflection. How is your life a life on the way today? This, to be clear, is not a question of demand, a turning of gospel into law, as if you need to do anything. It is, rather, the joyful question that arises when the stone has been rolled away. It is the question that takes seriously Jesus’ promise that we will do great works in God’s name. Christ, who was dead, is alive. You are alive and on the way with him. What now will you do?
- This morning, we recognize and celebrate Dean and Beverly Lueking, who welcomed into their home and family more than thirty children who were part of the foster care system. What a faithful embodiment of the abundant life of Easter. In welcoming these children into their lives, their home became a sign of God’s home, in which there is room enough for all and a dwelling place for each. It is work that is still needed today. Last year, Lutheran Child and Family Services helped foster families care for nearly 2,000 children, a fraction of the total children in need of loving, caring homes in Illinois. Perhaps this is work to which you are called. Perhaps there are other means of embodied care and ministry to which you are called. What is God speaking to you? How does God intend the life of Easter to be manifest in your abundant life? What will you build upon the stone that was rejected but has become the cornerstone of a whole new world?
- Today, Jesus speaks promise to us. We no longer need to worry about the destination. One day, we will in great joy discover the life of the new creation. Can you imagine? And we, on earth, give thanks that our beloved ones are already safe on that bright far shore with Jesus. But Jesus is with us, too. Jesus makes God’s home with us here. The truth of the matter is that he is the only way to the life God intends. And the gift is that this life has already begun for you. If it’s God you’re wanting, starting right here will do fine. Amen.
Alleluia! Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed. Alleluia!
And now may the peace that passes all understanding keep
