On Danielle

By now you've processed the notice that Pastor Danielle will begin a new call withthe NC Synod in August. Her last Sunday will be July 30, 5 1/2 years after she first arrived. She'll certainly be missed. 

Danielle has been a faithful colleague, a tireless worker, and a passionate defender of the faith. She came on board as our "token millennial" (as she described herself), but leaves rather middle aged (I'll take the heat for that comment!). We've watched her blossom into a wife, a pastor, and a mom, and we've enjoyed the fruits of her endlessly creative energy. 

Thankfully Danielle isn't going very far. The Synod has stolen her away -- we'll forgive them at some point, I'm sure! -- but she'll be serving the wider church on our behalf ... which means that we now claim Danielle as our missionary. And since missionaries need to check in every once in a while, we'll be more than happy to welcome her home whenever she has a Sunday free. 

In the coming weeks you'll receive word on how and when we'll say goodbye. In the meantime, enjoy these last few weeks of preaching and teaching and laughing and (highly likely) crying. July 30 will be here before you know it :(

Blessings to you, Danielle!

On terrorism and Ferguson Laurent

As I write this post, a news helicopter is circling over downtown Salisbury, undoubtedly here to film what may well be a [take your pick] gathering/protest/peaceful march as a result of the DA's ruling in the Ferguson Laurent case. 

It's hard to know what to think. Laurent was not the model citizen by any stretch of the imagination, and the DA's report exonerating the officer seems logical, given the facts pieced together by state investigators. 

So why the protest? It's important to remember that Laurent represents a demographic -- young black men -- who increasingly feel like they have to watch their backs around police. Was Laurent justified in firing the first shot at the officer? Not in my book. But are other young black men justified in raising questions? Of course they are ... although I hope they would do so in the spirit of civility and self-control ...

.... which is one of the many challenges we seem to be facing these days -- the lack of civility and self-control. Our governmental leaders certainly don't serve as role models ... nor does the Rutherfordton pastor who tried to "beat the evil spirit out of" his homosexual parishioner (from today's Salisbury Post). Another round of terrorist attacks in London last Saturday serves as the extreme example -- deranged murderers who take joy in bringing chaos and fear in the name of their "god."

What are we to do? There's no easy answer, but I have a hunch Jesus would start with a phrase he shared in the Sermon on the Mount: "blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called the children of God." In its original language, "blessed" (ashray) isn't a passive hope that folks will simply "be happy." Instead its an active plea, literally to get up and do something for the sake of what is right. "Get up and do something" you peacemakers, for you are children of God! In other words, get your hands dirty for the sake of what is right. Help to build a humane society rooted in civility and peace. 

Get up. Do something. Move ... because in time like these, God doesn't need peace-contemplators. God needs peace-makers. 

Blessings to you, my peace-maker friends. I'll see you around the neighborhood :) 

On Synod Assemblies

Dear friends, 

Greetings from Greensboro! At this very moment we're sitting in our North Carolina Synod Assembly, an annual gathering of pastors and lay leaders from throughout North Carolina. 486 people are here celebrating the ministries of the church, worshipping, hearing from our ELCA representatives, and taking a glimpse into the future. 

And yes, I'm typing this letter while someone is making a presentation. Sort of like someone who texts during one of my sermons! :)

Synod Assemblies might not sound interesting, but they're critically important to us as "church." It's so easy these days to care only about interests that matter to "me" and focus only on those things of local interest or concern. If we're not careful, the boundaries of God's kingdom become awfully small. 

In 1802 -- at St. John's, no less -- the North Carolina Synod was formed among Lutheran congregations that realized that life together was better than life apart. Today our synod includes 199 congregation of varying sizes. Once a year we gather together as family -- not literally around a big dinner table, but it sorta feels like that. It's a time to share stories, remember our purpose, and celebrate why it matters that we stay together. 

Which is precisely what we're doing. Pastor Danielle, Kristin May, Karen Jones, and Gary Rhodes are our delegates. Several other St. John-ers are here, too, serving in a variety of volunteer capacities. 

A good way to spend a weekend? Well, yes. It might not be for everybody, but it's important to be here. That's what makes us "synod," after all, which literally means "those journeying together." 

Blessings to you this week. 

Summertime!

It’s almost summer and I am so ready. This South Carolina boy grew up in the heat, so a string of 90 degree days doesn’t phase me one bit. Heck, some thought there was little more than a screen door between my hometown in Columbia and Dante’s inferno!

Sure enough, the second you walked outside in July your clothes would be dripping wet. Every neighborhood had a pool, thank goodness, but come mid-July the pool water felt like bath water.

So why do I like summer so much? Being outside, for one ... and the little bit of freedom that comes along with it. To this day I get excited when Anna’s final day of school rolls around. I vividly remember hearing the bell ring one last me at Seven Oaks Elementary School in the mid 1970s, followed by an eruption of cheers. I can picture Ricky Faulk and me racing to our bikes to see who could get o school grounds first. Summer time!

Summer time is fun around St. John’s, too. Sure, worship attendance slows down a bit because of vacations and trips to the lake. But while some things slow down, other things heat up.

Think about June and July alone: three youth mission trips, one confirmation camp, Summer Strings Camp, Hands and Feet Camp, and a day-long Free Day Camp with the staff  of Agape. And that doesn’t even include VBS, which is the first week of August.

It’s busy, but it’s a good kind of busy.

Speaking of heating up, I hope you had the chance to attend Cheerwine’s 100th birthday celebration on May 20. It was hot ... but how fun to see our downtown filled to the brim with good cheer. 

And don’t you know the CDC is heating up these days. School’s almost out, which means the CDC will be welcoming back another year of “summer camp” for school aged kids. Implemented three years ago, summer camp is a blast, loaded with field trips and fun. But the biggest excitement at the CDC has to do with our new execu ve director, Courtney Bost. Courtney has so much passion, care, and talent. Read all about her in our latest Eagles View newsletter.

Another of our ministries that’s heating up: our four Lutheran camps and conference centers in North Carolina.

Just last week we sent Matthew to to be a counselor at Lutheridge. He’s been waiting for this moment since we picked him up from camp after first grade. “I’m going to be a counselor,” he said. That was 12 years ago, and true to his word, Matthew loaded up his Subaru with ratty tennis shoes, a bunch of T shirts, and a guitar. What else does a summer camp counselor need? It’s sure to be the best summer of his life, and we can’t wait to hear all about it.

I sure hope your summer is heating up, too. Maybe it just means extra me to sit on the patio and relax. Maybe you’ll be hiking up Hanging Rock or biking the Virginia Creeper trail. Maybe a beach trip is in your future, or even an outdoor concert.

Whatever summer means for you, may you rejoice in this very precious season of life. Hot though it may be, may you be warmed by the joy each day is sure to bring. 

A new home

Every time I walk past our stairwell a tiny little “ding” is heard. It’s faint, and I’ve gotten used to it for the most part.

It comes from an antique telephone Krista brought from her mom’s house last month, the kind I first saw on the Waltons, with a crank and a separate ear piece. It’s   classic. 

Following the death of Krista’s dad last September, Krista’s mom, Joan, decided to move out of their spacious log home and into a two bedroom condo. She downsized, which meant that we now have a number of little treasures like that phone … and a small chalkboard that hung in their basement … and an old flintlock gun that looks like something Aaron Burr would have used in his fateful duel. 

Although we’re proud to own these keepsakes, it’s hard for me to place them outside that old log house where they’ve lived these last 30 years. It’s where we’ve celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas ever since I met Krista. It’s that place of quiet retreat that always smelled like a combination of Roger’s workshop, a wood burning stove, and the warm, muskiness of barley and hops. 

I’m not sure who will miss the house more, but I know my name is on that list. The night time was the best, with no ambient light or noise for miles around. Sleeping in was assumed, as was a quiet walk down the stairs if you were the first one up. 

There was nothing fancy about the house — or life in the house — although it was as sturdy and well built as you’ve ever seen. Krista’s dad built it from scratch, after all. Their dream home. A home for all of us.

But things change and life moves on. Families aren’t confined to four walls, after all, and the practical side of taking care of property and appliances and cleaning eventually wins out. It was time to move. 

Joan is now finding a new normal as she transitions into a different home and a changed routine. The large picture window in her bedroom helps, perfectly placed so that she wakes up every morning to the sun rising over Lake Keowee. The dawn of a new day.

Which is precisely what all this is, for each of us: the dawn of a new day. Different, sure, but each day kissed with the beauty of newness and grace. 

“I lift up my eyes to the hills; from where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made the heavens and the earth” (Psalm 121).  

I have no idea where we’ll hang that old telephone, but we’ll find a place. And in time it will become part of its new home, a constant fixture whose “ding” seems to  announce that “all is well.” 

Blessings to you and yours, 

Pastor Rhodes

Every 9 seconds

Every 9 seconds, someone is physically abused.  

1 out of every 3 women have been physically abused at some point in their lives. 1 of 7 have been stalked to the point of fearing for their safety. 

Let those numbers sink in for a second. They equate to 10 million US abuse victims annually. It's a frightening reality that affects every community and all people regardless of age, socio-economic status, race, or nationality. Perhaps you are one of the ones reflected in these numbers. 

This Sunday at 4:00, the downtown clergy are sponsoring a "Break the Silence" service for all victims of violence and abuse. The service will be held at Hood Seminary and include scripture readings, song, reflection and testimonies. 

For many victims, their abuse has been "silent." Far too many have been afraid to let anyone know about their past either for fear of retaliation, embarrassment, or worry that they will be labeled. "Break the Silence" gives space for voices to be heard and wounds to be healed. 

I'll be a part of the service and would certainly invite your participation if it would be meaningful to you. Or perhaps this idea simply brings up a difficult reminder of your past/hurt. Please know that St. John's is a place where we gather to be healed -- a place of hope, of balm for our wounds, and a loving reminder that we are made new again by a God who dares to walk with us into those very dark places. 

Blessings to you during this second week of Easter. Christ is alive! The tomb is empty. There is hope for tomorrow :)

Peace+

Pastor Rhodes

Nothing can separate us

We've just finished conducting the memorial service for Nancy Bowden, a life-long member of St. John's whose services for baptism, first communion, confirmation, marriage, and now burial were all held in our sanctuary. 

There was something special about her funeral being held on Maundy Thursday. The altar area has already been prepared for tonight's worship, a large black veil nearly covering the triptych, the remnants of Palm Sunday still in the chancel -- a pitcher, towel, robe of purple cloth, and crown of thorns. Though we celebrated Nancy's life, the space presented a powerful reminder that a funeral service is about far more than us. It's the church's strongest and most profound statement that, because of Christ's death and resurrection, nothing can separate us from the love of God. Neither life nor death nor things present nor things to come. Nothing can separate us from God's love. 

Tonight we re-tell the story of Jesus' last meal, the washing of his disciples' feet, and his betrayal by Judas. The mood is stark, especially as we end with the dramatic stripping of the altar amidst total silence and darkness. At the end, only darkness remains. 

On Good Friday we gather in darkness, stunned as the final candle -- the only light that remains -- is removed from the sanctuary. 

Thankfully you know the rest of the story. Easter dawns, the tomb is empty, Christ is risen! Whew!

But might I ask a favor? There are lots of folks in our world and in our community who don't know the rest of the story. Sure, they might have heard it, but their lives continue to be wrapped in darkness and despair and grief and betrayal. For whatever reason, it's hard for them to wrap their heads around "new life" and "hope" and an "empty tomb." It's difficult for them to embrace this belief that nothing can separate us from God's love. 

Will you pray for them? ... and if given the opportunity, will you invite them to hear and experience the rest of the story? It may well be the greatest gift you've ever given. 

Thank you for who you are. And thanks be to God for the privilege of sharing in this journey with you.