Discipline (Reflections on the Feast of the Holy Trinity 2026)

 

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:19-20)

It was February 7, 1999 and I was in my new office at Faith Lutheran of Philadelphia, nervously awaiting the start of my Ordination Mass. Two months prior I had been called to this parish by a unanimous vote of the congregation following a call sermon I’d practiced the night before at the Cowboy Church at the Cowtown Rodeo in Woodstown, New Jersey. As fellow pastors, seminary friends, and my rather lengthy list of invited guests came to greet me before the start of the service, Priscilla, a sweet little lady (now, alas, part of the Church Triumphant) serving as a greeter, came to inform me in what appeared to be a state of shock, “Pastor! A cowboy just came in!”

That cowboy was Paul Graham, known around the rodeo as “P.G.” He was a retired calf roper and husband of Susie, the rodeo photographer who coordinated worship services at the rodeo before the start of each night’s festivities. After one of these payer meetings held in a lean-to tent next to the rodeo office I mentioned to P.G. that we seemed to be praying for an unusually high number of injuries suffered by the rodeo contestants. He just shook his head and said, “It’s all about discipline. These boys don’t ride every day. They think they can come out here on a Saturday night and jump on a bucking horse or a bull without getting hurt, but they haven’t taken the time to develop their skills. You can’t just be a weekend warrior. You have to practice every day.”

I’d say that’s true of our faith, too. It’s not just for Sunday. It’s every day.

In the Gospel Lesson for Holy Trinity (Matthew 28:16-20), Jesus tells his followers (and us) to “go and make disciples of all nations.” He doesn’t tell them to go and make believers or make church members. He tells them to make disciples—a word which comes from the same root as the word “discipline.” He’s asking us to make and be people who live every day in the contemplation of the Holy Trinity.

I think we tend to think of discipline as something harsh and punitive. You know: Puritans sentencing people to the stocks and pillory for missing church, a six-foot nun wielding a ruler, or all the purity limus tests of the American non-denominational evangelicals. I’d prefer to think of Christian discipline more like the way P.G. talked about rodeo riding. Like athletes who love a sport or musicians who love music, regular everyday practice is a necessity. But it also becomes a thing of joy.

The anonymous writers of our Celebrate inserts have summed it up very nicely:

“More than a doctrine, the Trinity expresses the heart of our faith: we have experienced the God of creation made known in Jesus Christ and with us always through the Holy Spirit. We celebrate the mystery of the Holy Trinity in word and sacrament, as we profess the creed, and as we are sent into the world to bear witness to our faith.”[i]

The Athanasian Creed[ii] reminds us to worship the Trinity in unity. That is, we recognize as holy sacred, and divine God’s creation, God’s word in Jesus Christ, and God’s presence in us and all living things through the Holy Spirit. Should I sin against my neighbor, I’ve also sinned against the Father God and against myself because it is all one. If I sin against God’s creation, I’ve sinned against myself and my neighbor—even those neighbors yet unborn and unbegot.

To see everyone and all things as an expression of the divine requires a sense of responsibility. It’s easy to compartmentalize our lives, but God can’t be put into a box. Discipleship means we don’t say “Love thy neighbor” on Sunday and “Every man for himself” the other six days. It takes discipline to see the sacred in all things.

Two things always amuse me. The first is when someone tells me they don’t like to mix religion and politics. Okay. As an American I acknowledge that we are not a theocracy, and our official public policy must not be governed by any one religious idea or interpretation. My faith, however, will still influence my vote, my advocacy, and my activities as a citizen. I will always support issues which support justice, fairness, and mercy because this is what Christ calls for. Not every religious matter is a matter of public policy, but every matter of public policy is a religious matter because everything is, ultimately, a religious matter.

The other thing which brings a smirk to my face is when young people tell me they are “spiritual” but not “religious.” I then ask them, “What is your spiritual discipline?” They often look at me as if I were speaking Latin with a bad stutter. They don’t understand that a spiritual life requires discipline—daily prayer, study, consistent kindness, forgiveness, and generosity. It requires contemplation of the mysteries of existence and the meaning and purpose of our lives. First and foremost, it requires awareness of God. This is love of God’s creation, devotion to God’s teaching in Jesus Christ, and appreciation of God’s presence in everyone and everything around us.

Admittedly, life is hard. P.G. might’ve said it’s like riding a bucking bull. It takes daily practice to stay on and to climb back on when you’re thrown into the dirt.

A blessed Holy Trinity Sunday to you, my friend. Please drop me a comment or question and do come by again. I love having you.

---

[i]   If you’re unfamiliar, Celebrate is a 4-page truncated breviary published by Augsburg Fortress to be inserted into the weekly worship bulletins of ELCA Lutheran congregations. It contains the appointed weekly lessons from the Revised Common Lectionary, the week’s psaltery, the Prayers of Intercession, and a short gloss about each of the readings. It also lists appointed readings for daily devotions and the commemorations and saints’ days for the coming week. This quote is from the May 31, 2026 edition, Volume 57, Number 3.

 [ii] The Athanasian Creed is, along with the Nicene and Apostles Creeds, considered one of the three fundamental ecumenical creeds of Christendom. It’s named after Saint Athenasius, an early Christian bishop who fought heretics for the doctrine of the Trinity. The creed has been used since the early 500’s. It’s really too long for liturgical use, and we ELCA Lutherans get a little skittish with it because it includes anathemas. It’s sort of “believe this or go to Hell.” It also emphasizes works righteousness. We prefer to leave all that judgment up to God. It does, however, nail down our understanding of the Trinity.

Wait 'Til Next Pentecost (Reflections on Pentecost 2026)

 

When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit…” (John 20:22)

Although Hallmark makes cards for everything from Groundhog’s Day to your dog’s birthday, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a “Happy Pentecost!” card. That’s a shame because this holy feast really should be lifted up as a special celebration. It’s actually one of the six principal festivals on the Christian liturgical calendar. It’s the Feast of the Holy Spirit, the Third Person of the Trinity. It’s also the birthday of the Christian Church. We tell the story every year of those twelve scared and confused followers of Jesus—cowering in their upper room—who suddenly burst out of their hiding place to proclaim to everyone in every language the Good News of the resurrected Jesus. Don’t you think we ought to shoot off some fireworks in honor of this? Or, at least, hold a weenie roast on the church lawn or something?

Of course, a lot of Lutheran congregations mark this day with the Rite of Confirmation. Unfortunately, we at Faith Lutheran of Philadelphia don’t have any kids who are Confirmation age this year. That’s just as well. I’m starting to get a quirky, uneasy feeling about laying my hands on the heads of fourteen-year-olds, praying they receive the Holy Spirit, and then watching them flee the building like kindergarteners when the bell rings for recess…never to be seen again.

Martin Luther taught us a relationship with Christ comes when the Holy Spirit calls us through the Gospel[i]. The trouble is, not everyone gets a chance to really hear or experience the Gospel. They might not even know what the word “Gospel” means[ii]. The three young fellows who will be taking my Confirmation class starting this August do not attend church or Sunday school. No surprise. Neither do their parents. Nevertheless, Mom and Dad are going to subject these boys to the Purgatory of my weekly online pedagogy in order to fulfill some family traditions or obligations or whatever wacky reasons they have for doing so (Maybe just to keep the little desperados busy for forty minutes on a Tuesday afternoon. Who knows?).

Now, imagine me trying to pound Luther’s Small Catechism into these adolescent skulls. I suspect grasping the Great Reformer’s understanding of the Ten Commandments, the Lord’s Prayer, and the Apostles Creed will prove a daunting if not completely Sisyphean task if these kids know neither creed, prayer, nor commandments and have no clue as to why they should be learning about them. I’m going to have to start with some really basic stuff like “What is religion?” “What is God?” “What is the Church?”

Since Pentecost is supposed to be the birthday of the Christian Church, I thought I’d spitball an explanation of this curious institution. But first, I have to start with a definition for religion itself. I’m thinking that as far as Western Christian thought goes, a religion is an attempt to answer seemingly unanswerable questions. You know—like “What is the soul?” “What is Creation and how do we relate to it?” “What is spirit?” “Is life eternal?” “What is good and evil?” Stuff like that. We Christians try to answer these questions through our shared mythology. By “mythology,” I don’t mean stories which aren’t true. I mean stories which contain universal truths and have the plasticity to be told throughout the generations over and over again with multiple interpretations—all of which could be right and speak to our human experience. They are stories which make us wonder and bring us into contact with God and into relationship with one another. These shared stories are reinforced by our rituals and festivals. The Church—the gathering together of all who love and believe these stories—is the vehicle for this reinforcement.

So what is the purpose of the Church? Ideally, the Church gathers us into community. The Church teaches and upholds our common values, reminding us to love one another, care for all God has made, and, when necessary, advocate for justice. And the Church is the provider of comfort. She provides comfort to the terrified and guilty conscience, interpersonal support, and unconditional love and acceptance. That is why the message on our LED sign now reads, “We haven’t met you, but we already love you.”

When I was about fourteen, after I’d made my Confirmation in an LCMS[iii] church and received my presentation Bible and a box of offering envelopes (“Congratulations, my son. You’re now an adult in the faith. Time to pony up the cash!”), my family started attending an LCA[iv] congregation. My mom enrolled the whole clan in a Bethel Bible Series[v] class. What struck me about this experience was not just the fact that I was learning the Bible along with my parents, but older members of the congregation—middle-aged folks—were treating me like a contemporary and allowing me to address them by their given names. I felt validated and appreciated by that congregation. This is a power the Church has if she will use it.

In the lessons the Revised Common Lectionary assigned for the Day of Pentecost, we have two different versions of how the apostles received the Holy Spirit. These stories were written by different authors to different communities, possibly a generation apart. Don’t try to reconcile them, just take each for its own sake. We usually lift up Luke’s version in Acts (Acts 2:1-21). We like the blast of the mighty wind, the tongues of fire, and the miraculous, godly speech gushing like a fire hose from the mouths of the formerly pusillanimous and dimwitted disciples. But John’s story (John 20:19-23) has a more subtle, gentle manifestation of the Spirit. Jesus meets the disciples personally, wishes them peace, and breathes on them. It’s almost like reviving them with mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He’d have to be very close to them for them to feel his breath.

I think there’s been too much “violent wind” blowing about Christianity in America these days, and some folks think it scares people off[vi]. I’m going to suggest we go a little more with John’s story. No shouting, no speaking in tongues, no rallies on the National Mall. The world doesn’t need more of that. We need peaceful, loving, honest, person-to-person relationship. That’s something you can’t get from staring at your cell phone. That’s what I want to teach my confirmands.

Meet me here next Pentecost. I’ll let you know how well it worked.

---

[i] See Luther’s Small Catechism. This is part of his explanation to the Third Article of the Apostles Creed.

[ii] “The word gospel literally means “good news” and occurs 93 times in the Bible, exclusively in the New Testament. In Greek, it is the word euaggelion, from which we get our English words evangelist, evangel, and evangelical. The gospel is, broadly speaking, the whole of Scripture; more narrowly, the gospel is the good news concerning Christ and the way of salvation.” This definition is thanks to gotquestions.org.

[iii] Lutheran Church Missouri Synod. Once the biggest group of American Lutherans, the LCMS went uber conservative in the early 1970’s. No women clergy. No LGBTQ+ clergy either. You get the idea.

[iv] Lutheran Church in America. A predecessor body of the ELCA.

[v] This is a really cool series which teaches Bible concepts through pictures. It’s pretty thorough. You can learn about it at www.bethelbibleseries.org

[vi] You might think I’m referring to the ultra-right wing Christian Nationalist Movement. You’d be right.

Lord, Protect Us! (Reflections on Easter 7, Year A 2026)

 

“And now I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one.” (John 17:11)

So, Jesus is gone. At least he’s not around in the flesh anymore. In the First Lesson for Easter 7 in the Revised Common Lectionary (Acts 1:6-14), Jesus takes off for the right hand of the Father leaving his buddies standing around on Mt. Olivet staring at the clouds with their mouths hanging open. A couple of angels show up, telling the disciples that Jesus will be back some day, and suggesting that, maybe, they have better things to do than stand around looking at the sky.

Our liturgical tradition gives us ten days between the celebration of Jesus’ ascension and the celebration of the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. I like that the disciples—as well as the BVM, Mary Magdalene, Jesus’ siblings, and all the other folks who loved Jesus and wanted to be his followers—get a little bit of downtime to decompress and pray and try to sort out what should come next (That’s healthy, don’t you think?). I’ll bet they missed Jesus even while they were still trying to get their brains around the idea that their crucified friend had been raised from the dead. But now, he’s really gone. Pretty soon the clock is going to start again, and they’re going to have to pick up the spiritual ball and try to move it down the field themselves.

In the appointed Gospel Lesson (John17:1-11), Jesus, just before his arrest and crucifixion, prays this “farewell prayer,” in which he asks the Father to protect the followers he’s going to be leaving behind. I have to wonder just what Jesus wants these boys protected from.

Look at the Second Lesson (1 Peter 4:12-14, 5:6-11) for Easter 7. Peter (or, more likely, a disciple writing in the Apostle’s name several years after Peter’s death) is encouraging a Christian community that seems to be getting its butt kicked by society. The writer says the community to whom his letter is addressed is “sharing in Christ’s suffering,” and they are “reviled for the name of Christ.” Well, that sucks. Either the Father wasn’t listening when Jesus prayed for protection for his friends, or the insurance policy Jesus asked for wasn’t meant to be protection against persecution, marginalization, or any kind of earthly suffering. So, what was Jesus praying for?

Peter’s pseudepigraphal[i] letter writer warns his readers, “Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour. Resist him, steadfast in your faith, for you know that your brothers and sisters in all the world are undergoing the same kinds of suffering (vv.8-9).” Jesus prays his followers will know oneness, unity, brotherly love. I think this is a prayer to protect us from a loss of faith, a loss of solidarity, and assimilation to the ways of a sinful world.

In the world of the text, it was pretty understandable that some early Christians would want to fall away and avoid the oppression to which the rest of the community was subject. The cost of discipleship just seemed a little too high to pay. In our own time, when nobody gets kicked out of their neighborhood or put in jail for being a Christian, the roaring lion is a little more subtle.

We need protection from our own temptation to hate or despise other human beings. Face it: as Christ’s representatives, we in the Church have done a pretty crappy job with this unity thing. We are far from one holy, catholic, and apostolic church. We’ve battled, criticized, split up and—at times—gone to war with one another over arcane matters of doctrine. We’ve burned each other at the stake and denied the presence of the Holy Spirit in those we’ve opposed. It’s okay for us to disagree, but we’d better be on our guard against a desire to dominate, discriminate, or demonize others. It is unacceptable for any follower of Christ to see another human being—regardless of their faith tradition, race, sexual identity, nationality, or any other identifier—as less than a holy person created in the image of God. We can debate and argue, but we can’t ever fall prey to judging who is or isn’t worthy of God’s compassion or our own.

We also need, in these confusing, frustrating, and potentially frightening times, protection from the temptation to despair. I can see how someone could look at the colossal mess we’ve made of this world and just want to say, “Screw it! I give up!” and shut ourselves in our homes and play games on our phones. But despair is not an option for a Christian. Yeah, there’s plenty wrong out there, and we may not know which way to turn. So, we can always do what the disciples did: we can gather together in fellowship and devote ourselves to prayer. It’s okay to take a little downtime and wait on the Holy Spirit. But please remember we always need to be here for one another. 90% of caring for another is just showing up. We can let the Holy Spirit show us what that other 10% needs to be when the time comes.

The best witness we have to the love of Christ will be our love for one another and our undying desire to share this love—in generous compassion and patient understanding—with the rest of the world. That’s how the world will know we are Christians.

May God deliver you from the evils of anger, intolerance, despair, frustration and resignation this week and always. Thanks for coming by. We’ll talk again soon.

---

[i] “Pseudepigrapha” refers to text which is attributed to a person other than the actual writer. I could’ve said “ghost writer,” but pseudepigraphal is a cool word, don’t you think?

The Power of Mom (Reflections on Easter 6, Year A 2026)

 

St. Paul on the Areopagus

"If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” (John 14:15)

Back in my home congregation in Long Beach, California way back in the day, there was this really nice family, the Shireys. The Shireys, Ken and Marge and their two sons Mark and Paul, were regular Sunday morning fixtures at St. Luke’s Lutheran. I’ve written before about Mark[i], a totally brilliant man and, quite possibly, the weirdest dude I’ve ever known (and I’ve known some weird dudes!). His brother Paul was quiet and more reserved, but also pretty darn smart.

You might imagine that having two genius boys in one household might be a recipe for sibling rivalry, but this wasn’t the case with the Shirey boys. The story, as I heard it, was once when they were very young, Mark and Paul got ready for an all-out, down-and-dirty fist fight as brothers are sometimes wont to do. This pugilistic attempt at fraternal bloodletting had barely gotten underway when the boys noticed their mother was watching them. Marge was horrified, and, rather than scolding the two combatants, she just started to cry. The boys were struck to the heart. They immediately declared a truce, apologized to their mom for their behavior, and—as far as I know—never fought again.

Never underestimate the influence of a mom.

In the Gospel Lesson appointed in the RCL for Easter 6, Year A (John 14:15-21) Jesus sounds for all the world like a stereo-typical Jewish mother. “If you love me,” he says, “you’ll keep my commandments.” (Using a little guilt there, Jesus?) If you think about it, you’d never want to hurt or betray someone if you really loved them. The Shirey boys’ love for their mother stopped their squabbling and brought them to a place of obedience. So, our love for Jesus and our knowledge that our selfish disobedience wounds the heart of God should put the brakes on our natural inclination to act like jerks. If it doesn’t, just think what your mom would say if she saw you doing that thing or saying that thing you were taught not to do or say!

Our moms, whether living or deceased, have a way of staying with us. There’s always a grain of our upbringing planted in our hearts, and we are never without it. In our Gospel Lesson, Jesus promises his beloved friends (and us too) that we will never be without him. He will not leave us orphaned, he says, as he gives us a basic lesson in understanding the Holy Trinity. It’s like this: Jesus is in God. God is in Jesus. Jesus is in us, so God is in us, too. 

I may not be the world’s best Confirmation teacher. The sad part about that job is I can’t give anyone faith. I wish I could, but in reality, I can only give my young students information. Real faith comes from God’s Holy Spirit. The Spirit can call us through the written Gospel, but I think she’s most effective when she calls us through the Gospel witnessed in a life lived with piety, honesty, and love. Nothing is a more powerful witness than the love of someone who loves the Lord.

But what if that witness isn’t there? I think what we’re looking at now with Gen-Z is the first generation raised without any religious background at all. Gen-X and Millennial parents may have abandoned the Church because it was simply assumed a religious tradition would be important to them because it had been important to their parents or grandparents. Going to church was “the right thing to do.” But that was not a sufficient enough reason for them to pursue religious observance. They needed mentoring in the faith. They needed more open dialogue. They needed safety to question. Basically, they needed more than we in the Church were willing or prepared to give them.

But there’s good news. Young people coming of age now are a generation of seekers. They may not know anything about the Christian faith, but that means they don’t carry the baggage of preconceived ideas. They’re like the Athenians in the First Lesson (Acts 17:22-31) of whom Paul says, “I see how extremely spiritual you are in every way.” They’re willing to listen and learn a little something about the “unknown God.”

Since this message will be delivered on Mother’s Day, I’ll point out that there are now some wonderful women’s voices[ii] articulating the faith for a new generation of curious young adults who are looking for something authentic and meaningful. But possibly the most influential voice is still that of your own mother. How did she show you the Gospel? What did her faith mean to her? If your mom’s still alive, you might want to have a chat with her about her spiritual life. If you are a mom, you might want to have a talk with your kids about their spiritual life. It might be a nice way to celebrate the day.

Thanks for reading this week. Happy Mother’s Day, and may God bless your witness!

---

[i] You can read my piece on Mark by clicking here.

[ii] Off the tip of my head, I’m thinking of the new Archbishop of Canterbury, Sarah Mullally. She’s the first woman to head the Worldwide Anglican Communion, and she and Pope Leo seem to be getting on famously. Bishop Marianne Budde, Episcopal Bishop of Washington, DC, has been another voice raised for people on the margins. The outrageous Nadia Bolz-Weber has been named the ELCA’s first-ever “Pastor of Public Proclamation, articulating the Gospel for a new generation and lifting up those left outside the church doors. Professor Elaine Pagels of Princeton University is one of the most authoritative voices about the origins of our scriptures and the writings of the Early Church. I also recommend the writings of the late Rachel Held Evans, a contemporary writer taken from us way too soon, but someone who really understood the current generations’ longing for authentic faith. There are other women writers and scholars I like too, but I mention these five because they’re all mothers and it’s Mother’s Day.