​“You put a fence behind me and in front of me, and you have placed your hand on me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me. It is too high―I cannot grasp it. Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your Presence? If I go up to heaven, you are there. If I make my bed in hell ―there you are! I rise on the wings of dawn. I settle on the far side of the sea. Even there your hand guides me, and your right hand holds on to me.  And if I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light will become night around me,” then even the darkness will not be too dark for you. The night will be as light as the day. Darkness and light are the same to you.”   (Psalm 139:5-12)
Separated from her parents by pressing crowds at the County Fair, a 4-year-old girl screams out. “Mommy, Daddy, where are you?” 
 
And the parents?  “A minute ago she was right here!  Just for a few seconds we took our eyes off of her to check out this craft, and now she’s gone?  Where did she go?”
 
Is there anything more terrifying for that little girl?  Only strangers wherever she looks.  No Mommy, no Daddy to hold her.  Comfort her and assure her, “Here I am! Oh, my precious child!  There’s nothing to be afraid of.  I’ll take care of you.”
 
And as for the parents?  What a flood of emotions are surging through their minds during those anxious moments?  “Where did my baby go?  Did someone take her?”  What a relief when Mom and Dad, just yards away but shielded by the crowd, hear their child’s cry and come running.
 
My wife and I were so concerned about this when our daughter, Tori, was little, that we bought a kid-leash for her.  More than a few times we were glad we had it.  It kept her tied to us—literally.
 
Do you ever fear that the Lord has lost you?  Because of an illness?  Accident?  The loss of a job or income?  Failing health?  The loss of a loved one?   Or the tinderbox our world has become in Ukraine?  The Middle East?  Do you ever stop and wonder, “Where are you, God?  Don’t you care about me?  Don’t you know that I am here?”
 
In Psalm 139, David assures us that the Lord knows our fears.  Our God is never separated from us, though we may feel he is.  In fact, the Lord fences us in, behind us and ahead of us.  He encircles us with his love and forgiveness.  We can’t escape his watchful eye whether we are surrounded by thousands at a football game or concert, at work, at school, on the lake, or deep in the dense woods.   Nor does he pull back his loving hand even in the middle of a burning house, collapsing tower, stormy sea, or smashed car.  In our lowest moment or in our best--he is always there.  If we forget him, he will still surround us with his love and care and compassion.  His hand holds our very steps.  For he knows how helpless we can be at handling our day-to-day needs. . .and our eternal futures.  In fact, even if we try to get away – we can’t. He keeps his steady hand on us, and he keeps us fenced in – just so we will be forever safe. 
 
Yet why does our Father watch us so closely?  Guard us so zealously?  Because he has invested the blood of his Son in us!  And because his Spirit has opened our eyes to see his light, a light that beams brightly even in this world so lost in the darkness of sin.  That, my dear friends, is grace. 
 
Privileged to serve,
Rev. Glenn Schwanke

(Author’s note: this is a repost of a previous article.)
 
Some may find this vulgar. Some may refuse to read past the title, assuming vulgarity will follow. What is vulgar isn’t the particular “f” word I have in mind, which is “Forgiveness.” What is vulgar is how sparing we can sometimes be with this most generous of gifts. What is vulgar is that the other, vulgar, “f” word (the word you were hoping would not be here and that I would never put here) passes through lips more often than variations of “forgiveness/I forgive you,” etc.
 
Want to smooth out relationships? Forgive. Engage. Communicate. And forgive. Don’t just grunt forgiveness in a grudging way or murmur tripe like, “It’s all good.” Say it – “I forgive you.” Show it.
 
Is this easy? No. Forgiveness isn’t easy. Look at what Christ went through to earn it for us. But forgiveness is free, it is life-giving, it is releasing. It is worth the work and effort necessary for us to be at peace with other human beings.
 
Forgiveness may even save you money. Visit ten therapists and you may receive ten suggestions for how to deal with a current relationship challenge. All that may be needed to break the dam of bitterness and vengeance and repercussion is…forgiveness.
 
Simplistic? Seemingly. Powerful? Not unless you try it. Jesus said, “As I have loved you, so you must love one another. (John 15:12)  Forgive as I have forgiven you. (paraphrase of Ephesians 4:32) Forgive your brother from the heart.” (Matthew 18:35b)
 
You know the difference Christ’s forgiveness has made in your life. Imagine the difference forgiveness would make in any strained relationship. Imagine the difference forgiveness would make in our nation if people knew how to do it and actually put this “f” word into relentless, generous practice.
 
Again, not easy. Do I have to forget what’s been done to me? Can I? What if someone doesn’t want forgiveness or is not sorry for what he’s done? How do I handle these frustrations? I don’t have the answers. Jesus does. Go to him often. Daily. And, at his urging and with his help, use this “f” word often. Forgive as you have been forgiven.
 
God be with you,
 
Pastor Stephen Luchterhand

Yesterday when I ran errands in Eagle River, I stopped at the Tractor Supply and bought three bags of salt for my mother-in-law’s water softener.  When I got home I grabbed a bag, threw it over my shoulder and started to carry it into her home.  In years past, I would take another bag and toss it over the other shoulder.  After all, the load needs to be balanced, lest I become imbalanced.  (I know what you’re thinking.) 

However, this time, with just the one bag, I only made it four steps before I turned back to my SUV and dumped the bag back down in the back.  Then I walked to Grandma’s house, retrieved the heavy-duty cart we purchased for her to use for groceries, put all three bags in the cart, and wheeled them up to her house.  All the while I thought, “I used to could.” 

“I used to could.”  I use the phrase almost daily.  Especially when it comes to tasks that are more physically demanding. . .like cutting, splitting, and stacking firewood, laying the 16 x 16 Lakestone patio blocks I’m using for sidewalks and a patio at my house, getting up on the roof to roof-tar the flashing, taking out the pier, or. . .tying my shoelaces.  Arthritis, crushed nerves and neuropathy can sometimes make even the smallest chores—like trying to grab a wiggly, squiggly crappie minnow off my pontoon’s deck--an Olympic-games challenge that lasts several minutes.

“I used to could.” You won’t find that phrase in any proper English grammar.  Nor will you find this phrase in the Bible.  But the thought is captured in verses we often share at funerals.  Consider Moses’ observation recorded in Psalm 90:10. “The days of our lives add up to seventy years, or eighty years if we are strong. Yet the best of them are trouble and sorrow, for they disappear quickly, and we fly away.”  (Psalm 90:10)  Yet Moses lived to be 120 and even then his “eyes had not grown dim, and his vigor had not declined.”  (Deuteronomy 34:7)

So perhaps we want a second opinion?  Then what about these inspired words from St. Paul?  “We are not discouraged. But even if our outer self is wasting away, yet our inner self is being renewed day by day. Yes, our momentary, light trouble produces for us an eternal weight of glory that is far beyond any comparison. We are not focusing on what is seen, but on what is not seen. For the things that are seen are temporary, but the things that are not seen are eternal.”  (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)  Most historians feel that Paul only lived to be 60 or so when he was martyred for the faith.  And Paul’s martyrdom came after a life filled with “momentary, light trouble” that included being imprisoned, whipped, beaten, stoned, shipwrecked, and in constant danger—not to mention many a sleepless night, going without food, drink, and freezing with little shelter or clothing.  (2 Corinthian 11:23-27)

Compared to Paul, my “used to could” complaints sound more than a little whiney. Especially when I view the aging process through Paul’s perspective.  Life here is momentary, like the grass and flowers that are dying down now in the fall.  (Psalm 103:15)   Aches, pains, and diminished strength are just signs that we are living in a sin-broken world.  Our bodies break down, wear out. This life in this world won’t go on forever. 

But, praise God, by faith we look ahead to what will last forever!  Heaven!  Our LORD!  All our Christian loved ones gathered together through eternity in a perfect place that is forever safe!  Free from terror, crime, sickness, sorrow, and pain!  Instead we will be wrapped in the peace of God, bought and paid for by Jesus, “an eternal weight of glory that is far beyond comparison” to any “used to could.”   

Privileged to serve,
Rev. Glenn Schwanke

​A few years ago, I took an online course from our Seminary on the topic of “Mission-Mindedness.” One discussion required participants to share a ministry passion. Mine? Wordsmithing. Per www.definitions.net, “Wordsmithing is the act of carefully crafting or manipulating words to achieve a specific effect or purpose. It involves skillful and creative use of language to express ideas, convey meaning, and evoke emotions in a compelling and engaging manner.”
 
In the context of pastoral ministry, my definition is much simpler: “Wordsmithing - Using words to communicate the Word.”
 
I love to teach and to write (sermons, Bible studies, blog). Conversations with people involve words that seek to enlighten with the Word in a variety of settings and contexts. I've always loved books; even now I read (audio, digital, print) a couple books each week to feed my mind and soul...and to fuel output.
 
I faced a dilemma in last weekend’s sermon. Here’s the full text of one paragraph early in the message:
 
     The chief priests and the elders were getting more vicious in their attacks against him and on
     this day, once again tried to trap him in his words. They’d seen him ride into Jerusalem to the
     shouts of “Hosanna to the Son of David!” They’d witnessed Jesus raising hell in the temple
     area, turning over the tables of the moneychangers and kicking out all who treated the Father’s
     house like a marketplace. So they asked Jesus, “By what authority are you doing these things?
     (Matthew 21:23) Who do you think you are?”
 
Do you see it? Anything strike you as, well, maybe not the best way to express a thought? It’s “they’d witnessed Jesus raising hell in the temple area.” As the time approached to deliver that line, I thought better of that choice of words and said, “They’d witnessed Jesus raising a ruckus in the temple area.” My brain initially threw out “Jesus was raising Cain in the temple area,” which would have required additional explanation as people might have wondered, “Wait, what, Cain’s been raised from the dead by Jesus?”
 
I thought I’d smoothed that over pretty well. But then, in Bible class, my choice of written words became the center of a brief discussion, because after all, they were written down…on paper…for all to see…until the end of time. We had a good talk about it and all agreed that exchanging “ruckus” for “hell” was best.
 
The lesson? It’s an ongoing one: choose your words carefully! Whether writing or speaking, “Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you know how you are to answer each person.” (Colossians 4:6)
 
God bless your use of words to share the Word!
 
Pastor Stephen Luchterhand