One does not live by beard alone.

Yesterday afternoon, in our group's first meeting for the seminary’s introductory education course, one of our three members made an observation:

"We all have beards."

Scott was right. I had noticed the same thing: him, Ioan and me — all presently bearded. Certainly, it was an interesting similarity for a group that was supposed to consist of people from different backgrounds, but I wasn't exactly shocked. There are a lot of beards at Luther Seminary.

I noticed this when I first visited the campus more than a year ago. Among the students, professors and staff members — at least the male ones — there is quite an array of beardage, all the way up to the top with President Richard Bliese. There's some of the classic don't-have-time-to-shave-during-midterms variety that you see at other institutions of higher education. But mostly, there are full-grown, intentional beards.

After my campus visit last year, I figured I should find out in advance whether I would fit in, so I grew my first real beard (it also had to do with the fact that my wife, Tracy, wanted me to try it). In explaining my reasoning to Paul, one of my very wise friends at the Green Bay Press-Gazette (also consistently bearded), we started to ponder why it is that there would be so many beards at a seminary.

Well, I told him, Jesus had a beard, and why not try to emulate Jesus? Certainly, we agreed, there are lots of ministers with beards — at least the Protestant ones (my dad for many years was a case in point). Paul observed that Catholic priests were more often clean-shaven. And then, Paul made one of the most stunning theological arguments I've ever come across: Maybe the Protestants were paying homage to Jesus (beard), but the Catholics were giving their regard to Mary (no beard).

Which brings me to another one of my theological curiosities. What if the reason no one recognized Jesus after his resurrection was because he shaved? And would we recognize him today if he came back without a beard (or with a shorter haircut and wearing something other than a robe)? Apparently I'm not the only one to consider this — my friend, Chris (another often-bearded seminarian), once pointed out to me that he had come across a rather tacky T-Shirt that reads, "Jesus shaves."

Well, now that I have tried it again and have officially made a two-month contribution among the bearded population at Luther Seminary (and snapped a Web-cam photo for evidence as I write this while Tracy drives us down to Green Bay). I'm ending my run today when I get to my folks' house. I mean, it was nice to have the beard during that cold snap, Tracy liked it, and, I’ve got to say, it's grown on me (heh heh). But it's getting warmer, I've made a nervous habit out of rubbing at it, and it's a pain to trim it. Plus I'm going to host tonight's "Survivor" show at my old comedy club for our 28-hour charity marathon, and I really want to commit to character (no matter what every other guy on every one of those islands has ever done, Jeff Probst ain't growing no beard). But I figure it will grow back again if I ever want it to.

And I've warned my group members. They seem OK with it.

Oles, Oles everywhere!

I am writing after my first full day of work with St. Olaf College's Ole Spring Relief 2 in New Orleans, LA. Whew! I'm tired. After traveling for 24 hours by bus, we arrived in New Orleans tired and unshowered, but thrilled to have arrived! We spent Sunday afternoon hanging out in the French Quarter in New Orleans (I'll add pictures as soon as I find a USB chord.) This was my 2nd time in New Orleans, but Kevin's first visit so we spent the afternoon exploring this amazing, historic neighborhood. I still can't believe that the French Quarter was completely untouched by the hurricane. And it's a good thing too, it would seem, because the area was crawling with tourists! We went to Cafe DuMonde for coffee and French pastries (beignets?) and had gumbo and jambalaya for lunch. Did I mention that it's 80 degrees down here? Not too shabby!

Today I went with a group of first year students to work at an area church that hosts volunteers and runs a food distribution center. A group of us did some exterior work on the building while the rest of us got the tent stocked and ready with grocery kits for the week. We packed over 250 bags full of groceries for families! I have never hauled so many boxes of food in my life! Then we spent the afternoon doing odd jobs around the church. I am hoping that we will have a chance to work on some homes later this week, but we shall see. Kevin is with another group in a different area. I miss him and I have no idea what he has been up to, but I'm still glad that he got to come along.

I first visited New Orleans last March when I co-led a trip to Mississippi to do Katrina relief work with a group of Augustana College women. It is amazing to see both how much work had been done here in a year, but also how much there is still to do. One of the neighborhoods that was hit the worst still has FEMA trailers in pretty much every front yard. There are still very few roofs on homes and businesses in certain areas. Some homes are so bad that they have been left to the rats and rodents--which also means that there could be alligators around!! (Or at least that's what the camp director says.) Pray that I don't run into any alligators!

The Power of One Pastor

With all the recent incidences of Christian, public leaders abusing their power with gross negligence, it does not surprise me that our seminary leaders would address this issue in a recent boundaries workshop. What did surprise me, however, was how little I knew about power and sources of influence.

Our Dean of Students, Patricia Lull, gave a very insightful presentation on the topic of power and its sources. Several items I had heard before. For example, I realized that people respected pastors for their presumed authoritative knowledge of theology and scripture. She really opened my eyes, however, to the various ways, perhaps overlooked, in which I as a pastor can influence other people. Three points stand out.

1. People mistake pastors for their predecessors. If the person you follow held sway in a community through hard work and charisma, people will attribute that same regard to you by fact that you now fill that pastor's position.

2. People think that pastors have a closer connection with God. Pastors in training, as we sometimes refer to our fellow seminarians, cannot fathom why anyone would presume we live on a higher spiritual plane. We see ourselves as normal people with problems and doubts and down-to-earth questions about our relationship with God. I can imagine, however, that folks out there would want to look up to us as a mediator between themselves and God. They could infer that from our fancy shirts.

3. People perceive pastors as having greater sexual attractiveness and find them fascinating because in ways they are separate from what many consider "normal" humanity. This one really flabbergasts seminarians. We look at each other from across the classroom and we see "Plain Janes" and "Ugly Joes". Again, we just see regular people when we interact. The title, however, "Pastor" or "Reverend" apparently creates an allure.

Overall, it is good to know that these powers of influence exist so that they can be controlled and mitigated. The pastoral office, as these examples illustrate, grants one power over other people. Fundamentally, however, a pastor must exercise power not to control but in order to empower others in their ministries. Knowing about power latent in the position allows pastors to act accordingly to protect and edify themselves and others.

Life after the show

So, I have been coordinating the Second Annual Silent Auction and Variety Show, which took place at Luther on March 15th, for about six months and now it is over! I can't believe it! I am glad to say that all of the hours and all of the work put in by the planning team and last-minute volunteers were well worth it. We raised over $4,100 for International Student scholarships and Minnesota Council of Churches Refugee Services. The Luther community made the night such a wonderful success! We took donations from students, staff, faculty, and area businesses for the auction and the show included acts from every corner of campus.

Although the fundraising for these great groups and the show were both absolutely wonderful, what made it all worth for me was the sense of community that I believe we all felt that evening. I hope that all of us realized, maybe just a little, that even with all of the transition that happens on campus from year to year, even with the large size of the student body, and even in the midst of our disagreements, we are still a community that hasn't lost its sense of humor. We still find it funny to see our president trying to polka to accordion music!

Once March 15th passed I realized that I had a TON of catching up to do both for school and in my personal life. I am still in the midst of the assignment process for first call in the ELCA. No definitive news yet there, but things are moving along at a quick pace! I have found prayer to be especially centering in the midst of so many unknowns looming over my head. Whatever happens, I pray that God will guide the process both for me and for my future first call parish!

Also, my husband Kevin and I will be leaving on Saturday to join approximately 180 St. Olaf students as they travel to New Orleans for Spring Break. No, we aren't going to party--we are going to do Hurricane Katrina Relief work. Kevin and I will be representing both Luther Seminary and PLTS and serving as "chaplains" for the group--leading reflection times and worship services as well as working on rebuilding teams. I'm looking forward to it! This will also be my second time to the Gulf Coast for such a a trip. Last year, I co-lead a trip for a group of Augie women to do relief work in Mississippi. I promise that updates are soon to follow!

Justice at last

It was a Friday morning in October 2001. Teresa Halbach walked into the editors' office at the Fourth Estate, our student newspaper at the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay. Teresa, as one of our photographers in my days as editor in chief, was confused. She had been assigned to take pictures of the university's old, abandoned child-care center in a wooded area of campus — but it wasn't there. It had disappeared. Sure enough, as I soon verified for myself, the old child-care building was suddenly gone — apparently demolished — without a trace.

On Oct. 31, 2005, Teresa Halbach herself disappeared. She was reported missing a few days later, and it immediately worried me. Having by that time become a reporter for the Green Bay Press-Gazette, I found myself in the odd situation of having someone I knew in the news. At first, I actually had to make sure the editors included her disappearance in our newspaper, since she was last seen a little south of our readership area. But as searches proceeded, the matter became big news all over the state. Then, the case got stranger and sadder when her remains were found in a salvage yard in Manitowoc County, Wis., where she was last seen taking photos for an auto-sales magazine. It even eventually made the front page of The New York Times.

The case became such big news because Steven Avery, the man who was soon charged with murdering Teresa and disposing of her body at his family's salvage yard property, was no stranger to the media spotlight. Two years earlier, he had been released from prison after 18 years for a crime that DNA evidence proved he didn't commit. I felt pretty helpless amid all this as a newspaper reporter. One of my only contributions was a column that shared perspectives from old classmates on the UWGB newspaper in hopes of not letting Teresa's vibrant life and infectious smile get lost in the sad, strange details of the case. (As referenced in the column, the photo of Teresa, waving goodbye and characteristically smiling, was taken for the campus paper just prior to her graduation in 2002).

It was the day before Teresa disappeared on Halloween 2005 that I received my call — my realization during a church service that I needed to become a pastor. This whole developing tragedy with Teresa and my inability to help served as a sort of confirmation that I might indeed be better able to help people through the ministry than through journalism. And it reminded me how important it is to take the time to appreciate every person who comes into my life. Sadly, I never got to know Teresa that well — strangely enough, the most time I spent with her was at a classmate's Halloween party in 2001.

The time since Teresa's murder has been difficult for a lot of people — much more difficult for her family and her close friends than it has been for me. It got particularly painful after Steven Avery's 16-year-old nephew confessed in horrible detail to helping Avery in the torture and killing. But for so many of us, one of the real comforts has been faith. Teresa and her family have been devoted Christians. It was particularly encouraging to hear from an old classmate about how Teresa had told her not long before her disappearance that God's will is bigger than any one of us and how we can't expect that things will always go our way. And like many others, I think of how Teresa is out there somewhere, still smiling.

For Teresa's friends and family, today brought what's probably the best news since her disappearance. A jury in eastern Wisconsin found Steven Avery guilty in Teresa's murder, which all but guarantees that he will spend the rest of his life in prison. I have been following the coverage for the past five weeks and kept checking throughout this weekend for a verdict. At last, this evening, we all got some resolution. My wife and I huddled around my computer to watch the streaming video, and a couple classmates called or text-messaged me to make sure I had heard the news. The Press-Gazette even contacted me for a reaction. It was an exciting time, even though it didn't make me much happier. Teresa is obviously gone from this world. And the case isn't wrapped up yet — Steven Avery's nephew goes to trial next month, and it seems like appeals on Avery's behalf are likely. My heart goes out to Teresa's family and close friends.

But at last, many have found assurance that even though terrible things happen in this world, God, through police and the court system, brings about justice. And even where that falls short of making Teresa reappear on earth, we know that, as her brother, Mike, told the media today, "We’re going to see her again — I can promise you that."

This is how small the world can be

I have heard that the Lutheran world is a small world, but I did not realize just how small until this week. My friend Scott invited me to a get together at his fiance's apartment. I first met Scott last year when he was a student at Augustana College and I was doing my internship there. However, it did not take us long to discover that Scott and I also grew up just a few miles from each other in Rapid City, SD (where his dad is a Lutheran pastor) AND that he was going to be headed to Luther Seminary in the fall. Now that he is here we get to hang out together once in awhile and reminisce about the Black Hills and Augustana. AND it did not take me long to discover that his fiance Lindsey graduated from St. Olaf recently, which is where I went to college!

Ok, so when we arrived at Lindsey's place we were not really expecting to see anyone we knew except those two, BUT the very first person I saw when I walked in was my friend Ryan from St. Olaf, whom I hadn't seen since we graduated! It turns out that Scott and Lindsey met while working together at Christikon, a Lutheran camp of the ELCA located in Montana. It was there that they got to know Ryan as well. It did not take me long to learn that since we graduated in 2003 that Ryan has lived all over the country doing social work and just recently moved back to Minneapolis. THEN a little while later my friend Anne came walking in--another friend from St. Olaf whom I had not seen in almost 2 years. She has the same connection with Scott and Lindsey! Anne, Ryan, and I were all English majors at St. Olaf together as well! It also turns out that Anne had told Scott about me in the past (since we are from the same hometown) and was surprised that we had not met until last year! Crazy! And fun! Finally all of those puzzle pieces fit together and we realized just how small the Lutheran world can be.

'Jeremy spoke in class today'

I've already been blogging a lot this week, but something so surprising and terrific happened today that I couldn't help myself form writing about it. (Making it even better is that lyrics to a Pearl Jam song ironically provide a perfect title).

I sat down next to Jeremy before our Telling the Story class this afternoon. Jeremy acknowledged that I must be on Easy Street for the rest of the course, since I preached my sermon last week. I asked him whether he was giving his sermon for the class today; he said with no great amount of excitement that he was, and he admitted that he hadn't spent all that much time on it.

With that, my expectations weren't that high when Jeremy took the podium to deliver his sermon on Jesus' temptation by the devil in Luke 4:1-13, the text upon which we were all assigned to preach. But I was still quite curious to see how he'd do.

I'd like to consider Jeremy my friend. I don't really ever hang out with him, but we've been in a lot of classes together in the past months since we started at Luther Seminary, and we're in the same discussion group in our cluster of Contextual Leadership students. In all that, I had found Jeremy to be a pretty consistent guy. Foremost is that he never talks in class unless he has been directed to. He's a quiet guy from Northwestern Iowa. Really quiet. I even got a little angry with him a few times last semester when we were partners in our Hebrew course — I wished he'd speak up and help me when I was struggling to pronounce Hebrew phrases in in-class exercises.

The only surprise I ever got out of Jeremy before today came a few weeks ago in Telling the Story, when he gave our group an ingenious idea for our play on the temptation narrative — that he, being a bigger and clean-shaven fella, should portray Jesus in the beginning of the play. Then I, being less imposing and currently bearded, should step in as Jesus after we skipped ahead 40 days in which Jesus fasted in the wilderness. That hilarious change-over proved to be the highlight of our play. But of course, this got Jeremy out of speaking for most of the performance.

But then today, Jeremy took the podium to give his sermon. Right from the start, I was joyfully amazed. He started out by discussing, in perfect comedic styling, the well-publicized claim by filmmakers to have found the tomb of Jesus and his family. In a startling fashion, Jeremy used that news — whatever unfounded hooey it might be — to remind his listeners that Jesus was a human being and thus faced temptation like all of us do. Jeremy proceeded to seamlessly discuss Jesus' humanness and yet his godliness, with his triumph unlike anything that sinful humans have ever achieved. We as humans should call upon the Holy Spirit when tempted, but we'll never end up as spotless and righteous as Jesus, Jeremy said. And with that setup, Jeremy hammered home the Good News: that despite our shortcomings, God, through the cleansing blood of Jesus in his unwavering faithfulness, forgives us.

I really can't do Jeremy's sermon justice in describing it. It was snappy, poetic and perfectly conversational in a genuine way that didn't betray Jeremy's natural soft-spokenness. It was, in my opinion, the best sermon given by any of the students in our group (and there were some other pretty darn good ones in that bunch) and quite possibly the best sermon I've witnessed since coming to Luther Seminary. This quiet guy knocked the socks off of everyone in the room. Our instructor, Professor Grindal, said she could easily have been spiritually fed off that sermon for a week. No one had any criticism to give him.

I was only a little frustrated. Jeremy had put across the very same points I set out to address in my sermon, which I crafted for days and also performed for my Contextual Leadership church. But Jeremy did it better. He articulated it in a way that I wanted to but couldn't. And, as he told us, he apparently wrote it in less than a half-hour, by first speaking it to himself and then typing it out, piece by piece. Mostly, I was just overcome by the wonderful surprise of the moment and the beauty of the Gospel as Jeremy presented it.

I had to ask Jeremy afterward if perhaps his father, like mine, was a pastor. No, Jeremy said, his dad is a farmer. And his church in Iowa is literally in the middle of a cornfield. Jeremy said he got some experience by preaching a handful of sermons this summer at churches in Iowa that were without a pastor. But he also admitted he must have something of a gift. He said that ever since grade school, he has been surprising classmates when he, the quiet guy, gets up and speaks.

God grants people gifts in marvelously surprising ways. And thankfully, Jeremy is giving back to God. I'm sure he'll be surprising people with the surprising and wonderful Good News of Jesus Christ for years to come. As I told him, some church in a cornfield is going to be blessed with a remarkable preacher real soon.

Has anyone seen this cow?

It has been quite a busy time in the life of this Luther seminarian, let me tell you! Has anyone mentioned lately that it is March already? I can't believe it. After the crazy snow days and the hours of waiting for phone calls regarding my assignment (see earlier posts), the sun is out and the time has zipped by. March is always a month of transition. Of course there is the obvious, the transition from winter to spring. But it is also the month when the 6-week classes end and the next group of 6-week classes begin. It's a time of transition for sports fans (from what I hear, I don't actually watch any sports). Personally, I am also transitioning into a new frontier in my own life--being a senior a few months away from graduation.

I find myself balancing an interesting and odd blend of activities right now. Of course, there is coursework, which has not been getting as much attention from me as it should. (Shhhh! Don't tell my professors!) Then I am also anxiously awaiting the next steps in the assignment and call process. I know I am going to California! (Yay!) I just don't know where or when exactly (not so yay.) Then I am also in the throws of helping to plan and coordinate the Second Annual Variety Show and Silent Auction at Luther next week. So I find myself going from studying the Revivals of the Norwegian Lutheran Church in the 19th century, to learning how to dress for an interview with potential churches (which apparently means I have to leave my leather and chains at home...bummer), and then to trying to find a cow costume for someone to wear for the meat raffle for the auction. A conversation about what I feel deep in my heart that God is calling me to do, followed by a discussion of a song about weasels for the variety show. Not typically two conversation topics that interrelate, but in the case of my life they do. C'est la vie!

A race for parking; a grace that's startling

Before I left my apartment to go to class this morning, I was studying Martin Luther's writings on the uses of the Law. Before I got to class this morning, the Law gave me a speeding ticket.

A $128 speeding ticket — 43 mph in a 30 mph zone.

I had been really determined to get to class on time this morning, as I'm often a little late. It often seems that no matter how hard I try to get someplace on time, I get there late. Last Tuesday, for example, I arrived at seminary earlier than ever but ended up hunting for a parking spot for 15 minutes — lucky for me on that day, it turned out that the special lecture that had drawn all those extra cars also caused classes to be delayed.

Today, I wasn't so lucky. When I put aside Luther's writings and was heading for the apartment door, I was well on time. Then I realized our toilet was still gurgling, and I had to figure out how to stop that. Then, on my way out, I ended up spending another minute trying to get our door to lock. It's not that our apartment is that dysfunctional — it just seemed like God was out to get me from the get-go.

I was especially conscious of not driving too fast in the six miles to seminary. And I was only running a couple minutes late when I arrived in the seminary's parking lot nearest to my class. But then I let the guy driving the other way take the one parking spot I saw, and of course, I couldn't find another. It was while I was racing (a nervous, unawarely 13-mph-over-the-unposted-limit kind of racing) down Como Avenue to another parking lot that the Law got me.

I pulled over. I handed the St. Paul Police officer my license (actually, I accidentally started to hand him my seminary ID — a brilliant mistake that nonetheless brought me no mercy). He came back with the $128 citation.

As I parked my car and made the long walk across campus, I considered whether my series of unfortunate events might be a message from God. And I mulled my absolute stupidity. It seemed like I just couldn't learn my lesson about time-management. It wasn't simply that I was always running late — it was also that I was already behind on much of my course work this semester. I just couldn't seem to manage my time wisely, and to the detriment of my ability to do God's work. I reached the conclusion that I really needed to do a better job keeping God's will in mind and asking him for help in doing that — I certainly couldn't do it alone. I got to class almost 20 minutes late, piling further onto my state of self-loathing.

Then, at some point, it occurred to me how Luther's writings about the uses of the Law tied into my run-in with the Law. Luther saw the Law — meaning God's rules, such as the Ten Commandments, that order our lives — as serving two purposes. Clearly, I had come up against the first, civil use of the Law, the threat of punishment that scares us enough that we "refrain from killing or from committing adultery or from stealing" (I suppose speeding wasn't as much of an issue in 1535 when Luther wrote this, in regard to Paul's letters to the Galatians).

But it even seemed that the Law's second use — the spiritual use — was playing itself out in a way. Luther defined this more important use of God's rules as a "hammer of death" that reveals to us our sins, unrighteousness and inability to measure up to God's expectations on our own. This hammer of the law crushes us, and indeed I felt crushed as all my seemingly inescapable shortcomings piled up in my mind.

The good thing about that second sense of the Law, Luther wrote, is that by making us so aware of our inability to be good enough, it brings us to the Gospel, to the love of Jesus that saves us as nothing else can. "When the conscience has been terrified this way by the Law, there is a place for the doctrine of the Gospel and of grace, which raises it up again and comforts it." Although I had received this faith and devoted myself to the Gospel — certainly, I plan to make a career out of it — this hammer of a $128 citation reminded me that I need to be focusing my life on God and asking for his help even more.

The day wasn't getting much better. The hardest part was calling my wife, Tracy, and letting her know that I lost $128 of our money, most of which she earns through her hard work while I'm at seminary.

And then something remarkable happened. After the misery from the Law had played itself out, the Gospel and its grace came directly into view — in my e-mail.

I got a message from my dad, who is the pastor at my home church in Green Bay. Knowing nothing of my speeding ticket, he was writing to let me know that the Church Council's treasurer had just sent a check to the seminary for me. He explained that the church, which was already doing so incredibly much to support Tracy and me, had a good year financially, and the council determined to share the blessings. It was a big check — many times bigger than the cost of the speeding ticket. I was at a loss for words. My eyes started to tear up, just as they're doing as I write this. God, or at least this wonderful group of people in Green Bay who are doing his business, had saved me from my plight, just as the Gospel of our gracious Lord saves us from all things.

I'm so incredibly grateful right now — to God and to my church — and so energized to better focus on doing God's will, with his help.

I'll be focusing on my speedometer more, too.

Family and Friends

About once a week I have a home-cooked dinner with a group of friends. This ritual has been happening ever since the second week of the 05-06 school year. Sometimes we just sit and watch the TV programs that are on that night. Sometimes we talk and laugh about things we are going through and other times the conversation can get pretty serious. This week, a very in-depth conversation came over us as we finished eating our meal. Those around the table were all in their second year at seminary, some were MA’s getting ready to graduate, or continue their time here, while allowing God to open up the next chapter of their life. The others were MDiv’s who are taking one day at a time, trying not to focus too much on where they will be next year (for internship assignments have still yet to come out). As we chatted about being in different states next year and the effort that it will take to continue with the sense of community, we reflected on the unique stage of life that seminary has brought us into.

All of us are at least three hours away from family, and some of us are at least three states away. We noticed that the lives and families that we left are continuing without us. We may be included through a phone call or through the seldom trip home, but for the most part our lives and energy are focused here at seminary. It is also here at seminary that we have created a community and have made friendships of worth. Even though many of us are eager to begin this new chapter, there is a grief that comes with the idea of leaving this community and having to start over again.

The other concept that came out of this conversation was the difference is between family and community. Both ties are very strong, however, we realized that the maintenance of community requires more effort than that of family. This is most certainly true when you are trying to maintain that community over the distance of many miles. So in one sense, the mobility and the opportunities that face our generation, and the generations to come, is a blessing and a wonderful way for young adults to come into their own; but on the other hand, is all of this mobility hindering our ability to create a narrative that is all our own? With every location change, there is a loss of history. For with every new location comes the need to create new connections and new memories, and with every new location comes the needed intention to maintain the old ones. We have lost the days where people come to this earth and leave this earth in the very same town. We are in an age where more intentionality is required to create community whereever we may be. Many will agree, the seminary is an amazing time in life- a time that can never be replicated, and as the R&B group of my youth, Boyz II Men, once said, ”It’s Hard to Say Goodbye”.

Next on Fox: 'Liturgical Idol'

From what I hear, "American Idol" is back for another season. I haven't had much interest to verify this; I've been boycotting the show ever since the untimely elimination of Constantine Maroulis in 2005 (in a way, it was his own fault — he went out singing one of these two sickeningly similar songs by the "band" Nickelback).

Nevertheless, I had an "American Idol"-esque experience today in the lab component of The Church and Music, one of the courses I'm taking at Luther Seminary. I was in the seminary's Chapel of the Cross, not an "Idol" audition-site studio; I was singing the worship leader's liturgy parts from the new hymnal, not a Phil Collins or Pat Benatar song; and thankfully, I was "performing" for an audience of classmates and our vocal music instructor, rather than a trio of mean-spirited and/or seemingly inebriated judges. Actually, looking back, it wasn't very much like "American Idol" at all. But it could still probably make it on Fox.

To explain a little, The Church and Music is a course for Luther students other than those in the Master of Sacred Music program. The vocal lab component is particularly useful for Master of Divinity students like me, who as pastors will likely be leading their congregations in the music of the liturgy in church services. Those folks who really knew their stuff were given an opportunity to test out of the lab component at the start of the semester. Although I had a good deal of choral experience in high school and my first two years of college, I figured it would be good for me to sit through the one hour per week of the vocal-training lab. In part, it was because a few of my friends were doing the same thing, but I also wanted to resharpen my vocal skills a bit and learn this newly modified liturgy.

Whereas I often find myself following in my dad's footsteps in my early stages as a pastor-to-be (stealing the words he uses to open and close his sermons, for example), I am determined to do something different when it comes to the liturgy. My dad doesn't sing it, I guess because he's never been that proud of his voice. There's nothing wrong with the leader reading those parts — in a way, I'm more comfortable with that. But I think I have a halfway decent voice (my wife might argue otherwise when I'm belting out dissonant harmonies against the car stereo — she'll reluctantly assert that I'm off key, and she's probably right), and I like the idea of singing in conversation with the congregation.

Driven by that arguably misplaced sense of confidence, I volunteered today to be the first in our small group of students to take the altar and sing pieces of the liturgy. It's understandable why we all found this scary (I was scared, too, and volunteered in part just to spare someone else the misery for the time being). Singing alone with no accompaniment for a crowd of people is bound to be scary for just about 98 percent of the human population. I'm sure that for some people, it's the most frightening part about becoming a pastor. But, as with my sermon last week, I found it to be actually a very invigorating experience. There's a humble sense of honor in getting to lead a group of people in worship in that way.

And I guess I did OK (I got a bit of applause, which all of us deserve — I mentioned how nice it would be if our congregations gave us a hand after the liturgy every Sunday). As our instructor shared with me, I now need to work on putting more emphasis into the words and smooth out the notes, which might also keep my hands from shaking while I'm up there.

I'm sure that with time, all of us in the lab will get the hang of this liturgical singing ... even if we never get to be as good as Nickelback.

In Like a Lion

The end of February and the beginning of March is a glorious time of year. Spring is threatening to turn the tide but winter still holds the field. The ensuing battle between Arctic cold fronts and Gulf Streams, warm and moist, produces these most spectacular blizzards. Yesterday, school children throughout the upper Mid-West were beseeching the gods, "Pour out upon us your heavenly gifts, white and cold, and may school be closed. Please, please may school be closed!"

Sometimes even seminarians say such a prayer. And sometimes in late February and early March they get their wish. Even Luther Seminary was closed yesterday afternoon and today due to the state-wide blizzard. The weather's vagaries granted us a day's reprieve from responsibility. For a moment we could live as if we had nothing to do.

So we made snow men and went sledding. We snuggled in our blankets and watched movies. We played cards and video games. We threw snow balls. Snow storms shut things down enough to give us a minute to stop and appreciate the beauty of God's creation. They give parents, kids, and even seminary students a reason to play.

As the high pressure front of responsibility closes in and a downpour of homework threatens, I hope your snow-induced vacation strengthens you for another normal day.

Of course, the past few days weren't normal for the snow plow drivers and those working in emergency services. They've been out clearing off the roads and helping those in trouble. I've been out driving around fulfilling my funeral director assistant duties and the roads have been remarkably clear. It is a minor miracle that road service can clean so many streets in such a little time. My sincerest thanks to those men and women who could not shirk their responsibilities during the storm. Rather, their tasks only became more arduous because of the inclement weather. I hope in some way I can return the favor sometime. It has been a wonderful break they have afforded all of us here at seminary.