July 13, 2025 - 5th Sunday after Pentecost - Martin Luther: A Holy Disruptor

7/13/2025 Recorded Service;  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p23SkDMdJBE  Sermon at 26:00

This Sunday Pastor Emillie begins a summer series called Holy Disruptors, which examines people who radically shaped and changed Christianity as it was known and experienced in their times.  What better figure to start with for a Lutheran congregation than Martin Luther himself?

Martin Luther stands in history as a major figure of holy disruption. He cracked open the certainties of a broken religious system to let the light of grace shine through. Luther was not perfect, but his life testifies to the strange and often scandalous work of the Holy Spirit: stirring transformation through imperfect vessels.

At the heart of Luther’s disruption was a deep encounter with grace. In Ephesians 2:1–10, Paul proclaims that we “were dead through the trespasses and sins” but were made alive in Christ, not by works, but by grace through faith. Luther clung to this promise, not as an abstraction, but as oxygen to a suffocating soul. In an era when forgiveness was sold through indulgences and mediated by the church hierarchy, Luther saw the cross, raw, unpurchaseable, liberating, as the radical center of Christian life. The grace that Martin preached is not earned; it is a gift. He wasn't the first to articulate this, but given the advent of the Gutenberg press, this moment was alive in history 

While Luther was a central figure after his 95 Theses were published, there were other reformers (e.g., Jan Hus, John Wycliffe, later Zwingli and Calvin) who challenged Church authority and taught similar doctrines. 

This theological earthquake disrupted the church and echoed far beyond it. Luther believed that if the Gospel truly freed people, it must free every part of their lives. This included their relationships, their vocations, and even their marriages. In a bold and controversial move, Luther insisted that clergy need not be celibate. His own marriage to Katharina von Bora, a former nun, was a living protest against a system that separated spiritual authority from embodied love. Their home became a place of reform, theology, table fellowship, and laughter. Luther’s marriage lifted up the priesthood of all believers and grounded faith in the gritty holiness of domestic life.

Pastor Emillie's sermon focused on Luther's Gospel of Grace and how hard it was for her to accept what seems initially like what Dietrich Bonhoeffer called "cheap" versus "expensive grace", and Bonhoeffer's Sunday in this series is upcoming..  

Luther saw in Ezekiel 36:24–28 a vision of what God does when people return to the divine heart. “I will sprinkle clean water upon you… I will remove your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.” That prophetic promise resonated with Luther’s sense that faith is not about external compliance but inward transformation. Luther's was a call for the Church to receive a new heart. This heart was not hardened by legalism or corruption, but softened by grace, alive in love, and poured out for others.

Pastor Emilllie also preached about a shadow in Luther’s legacy that must not be ignored. The purity mentioned in Ezekiel verses leads to a darker part of our Lutheran legacy.

In his later years, Luther turned to bitter and violent rhetoric against the Jewish people. His anti-Semitic writings were vicious, dehumanizing, and tragically influential. In our time, they stand in direct contradiction to the Gospel he so passionately defended. These writings were used to justify unspeakable violence, especially in Nazi Germany centuries later. For a man who championed the heart of flesh over the heart of stone, this hatred is a grievous and heartbreaking stone lodged in his legacy. 

There were people in our past Wednesday discussion who, unsurprisingly, were unaware of this side of his writings. Pastor Emillie also pointed out how his insistence that everyone follow Christianity over Judaism was salvation based on an individual doing something. In other words, on their works.   

Creator did not attempt to whitewash this part of Luther’s writing. Instead, we held it in tension. We lamented. We repented by letting it sharpen our awareness that even people we view as heroes are capable of harm. Holy disruption does not sanctify everything a person does. Instead, it reveals that God works through us, not because of our righteousness, but often despite our brokenness. 

I must admit it was odd to revisit this history with Epstein and other conspiracies being touted in our national headlines today. Unchecked power (political or religious power) or idolizing an individual tends to lead to abuse. Hopefully, we can resist the temptation to engage in that..

Martin Luther was a disruptor, not for the sake of power or rebellion, but for the sake of renewal. He cracked open the Church so that grace could breathe again. He envisioned clergy who could love and marry, homes where theology could be lived, and people who could trust God’s mercy more than their own merit. Yet he also spoke words that shattered other lives. These are words we must name, reject, and never forget.

To follow Christ is to enter the work of holy disruption with humility. It means confessing where our institutions fall short, where our heroes fail, and where the Spirit still moves, making all things new.

We honor Luther not by emulating everything he said, but by carrying forward what was most true in his witness: that salvation is by grace, that hearts can be remade, and that no system, not even the church itself, is above reform.

July 6, 2025 - 4th Sunday after Pentecost - A Listening Faith Compared to a Loud Faith

Service Recording:

Pastor Tom Hilter preached today. Creator posted about celebrating the Fourth of July this week, but we didn't directly acknowledge the holiday in the service.

National holidays always give me pause at church. Not because I don't love this country. I do. I’m grateful for its beauty, its freedoms, and the people who’ve shaped it. Yet, I’ve learned that love of country is a complex thing. It’s full of contradictions.

For ma July 4th is a day of national ambiguity. Particularly this year, I question: What does it mean to be Christian in a land we love, that is not our ultimate home? In today’s Gospel, Jesus gathers 72 ordinary disciples to send out, two by two, with no purse, no sandals, no security. Just peace on their lips and healing in their hands. Ambassadors of another realm.

There is no mention that these followers were scholars, or clergy, or influencers, so it may have been people who volunteered and had the capacity. There is a Bible reference that leads us to Moses and the Elders in Numbers 11:16-30, where God instructs Moses to appoint 70 elders to assist him in leading the people. If that is a significance of 72, this suggests Jesus' message is spreading to all nations. The large number of 72 becomes less surprising (otherwise, so many pairings are unwieldy to imagine). Yet what comes next is a true surprise in this story.

The Kingdom of God arrives without fanfare or force, but on foot, in pairs, with empty hands and open hearts. It is also worth noting that these pairs are not sent to the centers of power. Jesus doesn’t give them church growth strategies. He doesn’t send them with a detailed theology. He sends them as they are, to people and places they do not yet know. They announce a truth that still inspires and rings in our ears: “The kingdom of God has come near.”

Questions naturally come from that announcement: What exactly is the kingdom of God, and how near? At times, reading those words, I'm baffled as to  how to answer. At times,  merely vocalizing these questions aloud vibrates my soul like a tuning fork. "Commissioning" has evolved from the missions or conversions of old. Instead, for us, it's a deep spiritual transmission. It’s not doing something for God, but about becoming someone through God. A deep call that we all hear in our lives and the world.

This Gospel message isn’t about coming wars, nor reclaiming national or political power. It isn’t about a Christian nation. but a different kind of kingdom. This one arrives not with flags or borders but with peace, healing, and a welcome table for all.  The 72 go out as citizens of another kind of realm that Jesus calls the Kingdom of God. 

In a reflection written just after 9/11, author Diana Butler Bass wrestled with what she called the danger of mistaking one’s homeland for God’s city. That tension has become clearer and more pointed in the decades since.

Bass speaks of the old folk hymn that echoes in her heart when she hears the phrase “homeland security”:

Jerusalem, my happy home,
When shall I come to thee?
When shall my sorrows have an end?
Thy joys when shall I see?

That, she writes, is the homeland we long for. Not a political nation. Not a military base. Not a perfect democracy. But a place of rest, a land of mercy, a city of God. We are sojourners here, too.

Our congregation lives in the Pacific Northwest. We are together in Oregon, with its Douglas firs, salmon runs, and vast coastal fog. We live in a country with both admirable ideals and painful histories. And we live with a kind of double citizenship: we are Americans, but we are Christians first.

As Paul wrote in Philippians 3:20, “Our citizenship is in heaven.” And the writer of Hebrews tells us that the great saints of the faith were “strangers and foreigners on the earth,” longing for “a better country, a heavenly one.” So what does this mean for Creator now?

It means we are not simply patriots of a nation, we are ambassadors of a gospel. 

What Jesus says sounds straightforward: go, take nothing extra, rely on the hospitality of others, proclaim peace, heal, and say “The kingdom of God has come near.” Behind the simplicity is a radical invocation. Do, not to undertake what is to be done in the world, but be a presence. He sends them out, “like lambs among wolves,” to be vulnerable. No backup plan, no extra sandals, no purse.

Why? The power of their being sent isn’t in the paraphernalia of preparation, as Pastor Tom pointed out today, but rather in being resonant with the moment. Being attuned to the peace of Christ, to walk in trust, and to carry not just a message but living as a spiritual coherence that opens healing and harmony in whatever house is entered.

It is tempting to become consummate "doers" in the world, rushing to fix, speak, or act louder than the many fears we harbor within. Yet we, like the 72, are spiritual beings echoing with the vibrations of the Sacred. Our presence alone shifts atmospheres. What Jesus modeled was not mystical escapism from death. Jesus embodied a new incarnation of the human spirit. 

Too often, especially in chaotic times, we only trust our time and energy. We feel we should work hard.  We must organize more. Our advocacy should be louder. Jesus says something else in this passage.

“Do not move from house to house,” he says, “Let your peace rest upon that house,” and “Rejoice, not that the spirits submit to you, but that your names are written in heaven.”

What if, instead of frantically searching for change, we bring coherence to those around us? To stabilize the space, not by control, but by presence? These verses speak not of what can be done for the world, but how to show up in life. Not with strategies, but with our frequency and the tone we carry. The tone of grace, calm, and clarity that we can embody when things feel jagged and anxious.

The seventy-two were not effective because they had a better plan or a truer belief than those of the towns they entered. They were effective because they carried peace. The peace that either settled into the hearts of others or returned to the pair undisturbed.

Teilhard de Chardin once said, “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience.” If that is true, then our deepest work is not acting for the kingdom of God, but embodying it. This is not done alone, but when we are paired. I've struggled with how the world thinks of individual salvation (see the blog entry about hosannas).

To be in the midst of what’s here without rushing to fix it. To listen before speaking. To bring presence, rather than pressure. This is a listening faith. Think about Jesus’ final words in this passage: “I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven.” Not because the disciples shouted him down. Rather, the kingdom of fear, separation, and domination collapses every time we, paired, choose love over control, peace over panic, and being over performing.

We are sent, not just to proclaim the kingdom, but to be ambassadors of resonance. Pastor Tom, in researching the congregation, liked that we used the word kin-dom on the website. We embody a waveform, a form that is luminous. Spiritual coherence is not an option we may choose; it’s our power. It is what heals, what holds, and what changes things.

So when the world gets loud, let's resist the urge to get louder. When our world shakes, let's not react by building levels of scaffolding to support it. Let's become the still point. Rather than act on behalf of Life, let's act as Life.

When the seventy-two returned with joy, Jesus didn’t congratulate them for what they did. He rejoiced because they had discovered who they were. 

Bringers of peace. 

Conduits of healing. 

And we, too, become witnesses of the Sacred who live in harmony as embodied ambassadors of God’s city right here in Clackamas County. 

The Old Testament Jeremiah Addresses Many of the Distorted Mirrors Reflected in Current U.S. Immigration Policies

But this is the new covenant I will make with the people of Israel after those days,” says the LORD. “I will put my instructions deep within them, and I will write them on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people.

Jeremiah 31:33

Reading scripture is mysterious. I have read the entire book of Jeremiah at least three times when reading the Bible cover to cover. However, the prophet's words did not "write on my heart" until now. 

In Jeremiah 29, the prophet writes to the people of Judah who have been forcibly displaced to Babylon. It’s not just a message of survival. It’s a call to build, to plant, to pray, and hold fast to God’s promise even in a foreign land.

I have never been an exile or lived in a foreign land. Jeremiah didn't speak to me until I imagined myself in another's shoes. I thought of being an immigrant in this country. I read this book from that perspective, and it was written on my heart. It was like walking into a carnival fun-house with warped mirrors and shifting floors. Nothing looked quite right. My reflection stretched tall and twisted sideways.  The rules of reality suddenly bent, and the disorientation was dizzying. I then imagined living in this fun-house..

That’s what many immigrants, refugees, and displaced people in America must experience every day. A country that promises freedom and dignity becomes a hall of mirrors where words don’t match actions, where justice is distorted, and where belonging is promised but withheld. Today, many immigrants in the United States live in a similarly disorienting reality. It’s like a fun house.

Presently, American life is a mirror of contradiction and distortion: "You are welcome here" echoes in a national myth and immigration slogans, while ICE vans now prowl neighborhoods. "The American Dream is for all", except for the policies and prejudices that fence it off.  "We are a nation of laws", yet legal protections twist and disappear based on country of origin, skin tone, or political winds. This is the fun-house effect: What is seen is not what's real. Systems pretend to be fair while being fundamentally warped.

In Jeremiah’s letter to the exiles, a divine invitation not to despair is heard. Rather than assimilate blindly, the letter says, be rooted where you are, even if the ground is foreign and shifting.

"Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, for in its welfare you will find your welfare." (Jer. 29:5,7)

To read Jeremiah is to hear God's voice through the chaos. Telling today's undocumented immigrants and refugees, you do belong. Not because the system says so, but because God has not abandoned you. There is a tension between adapting to the land and holding onto a deeper identity. Jeremiah doesn’t tell the exiles to become Babylonians; he tells them to live faithfully in exile. To see the distortion and lies as the temporary empire tricks they are, and not the final word.

And crucially, Jeremiah promises:

"Surely I know the plans I have for you... plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope." (Jer. 29:11)

He doesn’t say run from the distortion, but root yourself in it.

That is not surrender. That is resistance. In this distorted world, immigrants and all who feel disoriented by injustice need this clear vision. Jeremiah offers prophetic glasses. He reminds us that God's truth cuts through the fog. God's future is not distorted. It is real, grounded, and just.

This week Creator's Office announced creating an "inter-generational moodboard". The suggested theme is: “Rooted & Renewed” A sacred space where generations grow together.  Yes, this is part of what our congregation is currently exploring.

To completely follow Jeremiah’s vision is to accept an invitation to action.

To tell the truth about distortion. We must name the ways our systems deceive, distract, and distort the image of God in our neighbors. 

To plant gardens anyway. The Farmland Distribution gardens are now rooted, growing, and producing at Creator. Amid injustice, we build communities. We raise families. We open churches. We organize. We worship. That is holy resistance. And, finally: 

To hold fast to God’s hope. The fun-house is not forever. Babylon is never the final word. God's justice is not a mirage. Instead, it is the real shape of the world being born.

June 29, 2025 - 3rd Sunday after Pentecost - Forging Faith for These Times

---

“When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.”
—Luke 9:51

---

Pastor David Jewel mostly preached today on Jeremiah  He emphasized what he thought made for a powerful sermon. What is the trouble being faced, in whatever scripture is being read, and what is the solution? Then today's "trouble" is brought into perspective, and the solution we hope will arrive.  

That is what Creator's Wednesday Bible Discussion does. Each week, the group wrestles with and learns from the upcoming Sunday readings. We share what we are fervently trying to save: the planet, democracy, the church, or our collective future. We do it with the best of intentions, to make a meaningful difference in a broken world.

We discuss what we believe Jesus calls each of us to be. There are "hidden" assumptions as well. Much of what we discuss relies on the logic of many systems we see as currently collapsing. We act with urgency. We long for control and the best ways to ensure success. 

We try to organize ways out of collapse. However, outwitting collapse may not be what’s needed. We live in a time of systemic unraveling: political, ecological, economic, and spiritual. Authoritarianism thrives in chaos, and that chaos is purposefully manufactured. Corruption is not an accident, but rather is the operating system. While the world is not ending, a world, as we’ve known it, may be.  

Luke 9:51–62 marks a pivotal moment in this Gospel. Jesus has healed, taught, and gathered crowds. Now, he sets his face toward Jerusalem. He sets his face toward the center of power, toward confrontation, and toward death. Luke's tone shifts in these verses.

Along the way, enthusiastic people come to Jesus: “I’ll follow you wherever you go!” Jesus replies with a warning: “Foxes have holes, birds have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”

A potential disciple says, before following, “Let me go bury my father first.” Jesus responds, “Let the dead bury the dead.” Still another wants to say goodbye to family. Jesus says, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom.”

Let’s be honest, these are hard words. Jesus sounds harsh, unreasonable, and without sentiment. Harsh, but not cruel. Instead, it’s clarifying. The U.S. and Iran may be at war after the bombing attack two weeks ago. Discipleship in wartime is neither occasional nor conditional. It’s not something we do only when it's safe. Hard soil must be plowed. Wartime discipleship breaks ground when planting seeds of peace in a landscape scorched by violence.

As Jesus and his disciples head toward Jerusalem, they enter a Samaritan village. The people reject them. James and John are offended and self-righteous. They ask: “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” Jesus rebukes them. When violence is in the air, Jesus’ followers turn to violent retaliation. They want certainty and a cleansing fire. They want to win.

Jesus calls for resistance instead. A nonviolent underground that doesn’t wait for peace to act but sows it. Many of Luke's would-be disciples bring what we often offer when we commit. Our good intentions, reasonable plans, and what we are balancing to take on that commitment. We act like we are embarking on a new project.

Yet Jesus is not recruiting project managers, nor is he inviting people into a particular way of taking on what is before us. We think everything is urgent. We build plans, spreadsheets, and systems to act. We attempt to engineer salvation. Jesus is not selling a vision of salvation, but acts with a face set towards suffering, and towards a path that we long for most. How to remain daily in the presence of God.

Collective salvation may not be simply about escaping conditions we fear. The current "solution" with Iran may not be to win peace, but to stay watchful. To stay with the brokenness.To stay with the earth. To stay with each other.

This is what Pastor Emillie preaches, and it is always inspiring. She yearns for Creator to forge a faith for our times. by taking us from our world of strategy and domination to a world of related stories: We choose to move from systemic solutions and "peace through threats", to developing our sense of relational living. 

I remember a time when our congregation's focus was on scalability. We thought our mission was to have more members who contributed. Currently, our focus is on what I call, at this moment, soilability. We are exploring what we can uniquely grow, here and now. Rather than problem-solving, we have taken on a heartfelt task of pattern-seeing. We move from identifying our hoped-for deliverables to humble devotion.

Jesus never promised deliverables. He promised presence. “I will be with you always,” he said, rather than “I will fix this for you.” In today’s text, Jesus invites people to follow him without looking back, because the way forward is not built on perfection. The foundation is not a declaration of either war or peace, but on courage, on community, and trusting in a God who meets us in the unknown.

Last Wednesday, we speculated on the fall described in Genesis. Given human nature, we wondered if the Genesis fall was fortuitous or inevitable. Human history is built on institutions delivering all we think we desire.  Instead, this may be Creator's time to tend to God's sacred ground with prayer, presence, and mutual remembering.

As we contemplate future ministry at Creator, will we encourage actions that better attune us to the gestalt around us, rather than agreeing on an agenda? Can our relationships with one another self-organize around the resonance of the moment rather than taking on some misfitted roles? The ongoing stories we carry may guide the rhythm of this congregation better than a road mapped for our future ministry.

This may not look effective in the eyes of dying systems, but it is deeply faithful. It might, at this point, be the best way to continue because, in the kingdom of God, faithfulness matters more than success. So, the invitation is not to follow Jesus with laundry lists of the conditions and outcomes we want, but with curiosity, open hands, and companionship.

Let's listen more than fix. Let's continue to discern more than direct, grab courage to experiment when we are tempted to follow many established, but ultimately hollow, traditions. To nourish one another rather than wrestling for control.

Will we dare to walk, not with a map, but with one another? Maybe our world can pray for God's kingdom life, which Jesus promised and constantly rises before us, like God's rainbow promise to Noah.

June 22, 2025 - 2nd Sunday after Pentecost - Luke's Gospel as Wartime Literature: Jesus vs. Legion

When reading Scripture, we often seek personal inspiration or moral guidance. Elaine Pagels' Miracles and Wonder: The Historical Mystery of Jesus poses her hypothesis that the Gospels were written during a time of Roman occupation and oppression. The Gospels are spiritual reflections. At the same time, they contain important stories of their society's dissent and resistance during Jesus' ministry.

Today’s story, from Luke 8:26–39, where Jesus casts out demons from a man and sends them into a herd of pigs, is more than a dramatic exorcism. Pagels proposes that the New Testament can often be best understood as wartime literature. Or, as we might alternately label this, liberation literature. Written as a declaration of divine confrontation against powers that enslave and dehumanize. It calls us to continue to struggle for freedom in this time of the U.S. administration's aggressive, internationally illegal, and unconstitutional war against Iran.

In this Luke passage, Jesus has just crossed the Sea of Galilee into Gentile territory. This is a land where Jewish expectations and Roman realities collide. He meets a man who has no name, no home, no clothes, and is living among the dead. A man who is chained by society and tormented by something deeper.  Upon seeing Jesus, the man cries out, "What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, don't torment me."

When Jesus asks the man, “What is your name?” The man replies, “Legion, for we are many.”

This suddenly becomes more than a simple, spiritual metaphor. In Jesus' time, a Roman legion was a military unit of up to 6,000 soldiers. They were an occupying force and enforcers of the empire. To call the demons “Legion” was to name the system that destroys identity, family, and community. This man is a symbol of an entire people oppressed, silenced, and stripped of dignity.

Luke’s first readers would have recognized the region's plight at the time Jesus encountered this individual. They had seen Roman soldiers march through their towns. They had felt the boot of empire on their necks. This man’s torment was their torment. This is not just about the healing of one man possessed by demons. This is about an entire oppressed people in need of liberation. The problem becomes how they can hear stories of hope while they are suffering enslavement and political oppression. How can they hear when merely telling tales of that suffering and domination threatens retribution from those holding power?

The Gospels' answer was to tell a good news message full of associations that only those familiar with Jewish scriptures could completely understand. The Roman Tenth Legion, locally garrisoned in the Gerasenes region, had, for its emblem, a wild boar, which in their minds symbolized Roman power to subdue the Jews. Simultaneously, there is the story the Jewish community knew about Moses, and how God delivered their ancestors by drowning the enemies who were enslaving them. 

What happens next in this Luke text is bold: Jesus does not flee from the unclean man in Gentile territory. He doesn’t avoid him. He liberates him. The demons beg Jesus not to send them into the abyss. Instead, Jesus allows them to enter a herd of pigs, which are unclean animals to the Jewish people, and an important food source for Roman soldiers.

The pigs rush down the hill and drown. This is no accident. It is satire. A Roman legion is destroyed by pigs. This echoes the Moses and Exodus story for many in the region. It’s a God story of holy reversal. Let's think about holy reversals of the past and what might happen after today. 

In Europe during World War II, resistance movements often worked in darkness. They used secret symbols. They worshiped quietly. They risked their lives to tell the truth. Today, we may need to become that kind of church again. Not just opposing the war in Iran, but standing for life in a culture of death. Not just speaking truth to power, but walking with the broken, the disillusioned, and the wounded, both here and abroad.

We do not follow a Messiah of missiles. We follow a Savior who set his face to Jerusalem and died on a Roman cross rather than raise a Roman sword. Luke described the people watching as terrified, not just because of the miracle, but because Jesus is disrupting the economic and political status quo. 

Fearing Roman retribution or fearful of what they can't immediately explain, they beg him to leave. The man, once bound and broken, is now “clothed and in his right mind.” He wants to follow Jesus. Jesus sends him back to testify. And so the first missionary in this Gentile territory is not a disciple, not a priest, and definitely not a soldier. Rather, it is a formerly tormented man who now proclaims freedom.

Jesus doesn’t just free individuals; he destabilizes oppressive systems. This is the Gospel. This is a kind of wartime literature, written to inspire hope and action in times of fear. Today, we may not face Roman legions as enemies, but we know and face many forces that dehumanize. Addiction, people profiting from pain, together with silencing the voices of the suffering, while also criminalizing the poor. We should not be intimidated. Luke calls all these forces Legion and reminds us that Jesus still stands against them.

The question for us constantly is: Will we face them? Will the stories dominating the current headlines become hopeful, liberating ones? Didn't we just make a proclamation against this administration's political overreach of military power on Saturday? What will be our national response to yesterday's bombing? Isn't this all about a God who crosses boundaries, confronts the empire, and dares us to live free and help others do the same?

The man once called Legion became a witness. Let's continue to be witnesses as well, just like we did when protesting this last weekend. Our collective spirit momentarily brightened, and people simply outshone the Saturday's overreach of political and military will, not with spectacle or threat, but by peacefully affirming the power of a God who sets the captives free, not only in spirit, but in society.

Juneteenth, 2025

On June 19, 1865, two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation, Union soldiers arrived in Galveston, Texas, to announce that enslaved African Americans were finally free. That day, now known as Juneteenth, has become a powerful symbol of freedom, resilience, and the ongoing journey toward justice in the United States.

At Creator Lutheran Church, we mark Juneteenth not only as a historical milestone but as a sacred opportunity to reflect on God’s call to liberation, equality, and reconciliation. As followers of Jesus, we believe in the sacred worth of every human being, created in God’s image and beloved beyond measure. We acknowledge that the legacy of slavery and racism still shapes many of our systems and relationships today. Juneteenth reminds us that the work of freedom is not finished.

Scripture is full of stories where God sets people free from bondage and calls communities into covenantal justice. From the Israelites’ exodus from Egypt to Jesus’ proclamation that God came “to bring good news to the poor and to proclaim release to the captives” (Luke 4:18), our faith is rooted in a God who liberates and heals.

Juneteenth calls us into that same work today. We are invited to honor the strength and faith of Black Americans who have endured centuries of injustice, and to examine how we, as a church, can take part in building the Beloved Community where all are truly free.

In recent years, Juneteenth has become a time to reflect on the history of Black Wall Street, referring to the once-thriving Greenwood District in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and the devastating Tulsa Race Massacre of 1921  Our youth visited Tulsa and heard Black Wall Street stories in 2015.

 Juneteenth and Black Wall Street have become deeply intertwined, representing both the triumphs and tragedies of Black history in America 

A Creator Prayer for Juneteenth

God of the oppressed and the liberator of captives,
We give you thanks for Juneteenth—
for the joy of freedom long-delayed,
for the courage of those who never stopped hoping,
and for the holy calling to justice that is ours today.

May we be your church be bold in truth, rooted in love,
and always moving toward the day
When all your children live in freedom and peace. 

Amen.

---

June 15, 2025 - First Sunday after Pentecost - Honoring Holy Trinity Sunday

This weekend, many people sensed in a real way that somehow the future is watching our actions and will hear how we describe what we did. Those who attended this weekend's military parade yesterday were dwarfed by crowds that participated in the multi-city No Kings protests.  Pastor Emillie and a Creator group saw my family at one of the local protests. 

 

The Gospel reading today is John. The text is quoting Jesus about the Holy Spirit. 

 

“I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me, because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason, I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.” 

 

Today Creator celebrated Father's Day with a Father's Day Litany and an entertaining Father's Day Children's Time by Pastor Emilllie. She dramatized how many expectations can be placed on those who fill fatherly roles.

 

The idea that God is still speaking and that the Spirit continues to reveal truth to each generation is inspiring. That encourages believers to remain open to new insights about God, justice, humanity, and creation. 

At the same time, it is hard to articulate in defining the nature of the Holy Spirit. In church, we tend to emphasize God, the Father-Creator, and God the Son-Savior.  By tradition, our Lutheran heritage dictates how we perceive God's presence and work in our lives. We like God still speaking, but we don't want to be wildly Pentecostal about it and lose control. We like our God to respect certain "boundaries". I remember many sermons trying to explain the mystery of the Trinity through metaphor. Imagine the Trinity is an egg yolk, white, and shell, and yet still just an egg. And the more the metaphor is pat and logical to the person explaining, the less I understood it. 

 

Pastor Emillie's sermon about the Trinity focused on the mystery of relationships and perspectives. She had us imagine being next to the ocean, taking in the enormity of it, under an immense sky with its stars. She felt small and insignificant in contrast Then she told us a story of how she once was told to look for living creatures on a property and did not see anything alive until a spider web caught her attention. She found tiny spiders crawling in a bush. At that moment, she felt huge. It demonstrated a delicate dance of relationships and perspectives.

 

Is the Holy Spirit an inner voice of God, something external to us, or both?  The answer, whatever it is,  seems to miss something fundamental. Particularly as we discern what is next for Creator's ministry. How do we know when we are truly hearing the Holy Spirit's voice? 

 

From a progressive Christian viewpoint, John 16:12–15 invites believers into a posture of spiritual humility, ongoing listening, and openness to growth and deep understanding. The Spirit’s guidance is not a closed book but a continuing voice calling people into deeper truth, which often leads to radical love, inclusion, and justice in today’s world. 

  

We prayed for the Emanuel 9 in the Prayers of the People. This coming Tuesday, June 17, at 7 PM, Creator will commemorate the Emanuel 9 with Our Savior's Lutheran in Lake Oswego. For those who can't attend in person, here is a link to follow on Tuesday. Or the author of the song's performance. We remember that shooter, who killed nine Emanuel church members after attending a prayer meeting, and that he his family were ELCA members.