Pastor Jim’s Blog | Trinity Lutheran Church

An Evening Hymn, This Morning

Oct 13, 2021 | Pastor Jim's Blog

Today’s Word from Karl Olsen…

One of my favorite hymns, in our hymnal or any other, is an old favorite sung to the hymn tune TALLIS CANON, All Praise to Thee, My God, This Night. Part of my affection for this hymn is its straight forward, wonderful, easy-to-reharmonize hymn tune (often sung with the text Praise God from whom all blessings flow…). And besides being a good, solid tune, it can be easily sung in a four-part canon, like Row, Row, Row Your Boat, only a bit more stately! (Just ask the church choir—we’ve sung it at many retreats and rehearsals!)

The tune was written by Thomas Tallis, a Renaissance composer, considered to be one of England’s finest. Born between 1500-1520, he rose from relatively obscure beginnings to be a singer at chapel and eventually court composer and performer for Henry VIII, Edward VI, Mary I and Elizabeth I. He never lost his head during the various religious battles of the time, remaining an “unreformed Roman Catholic;” his versatility of musical styles literally saved his job and his life! In later life he received a 21-year monopoly (along with William Byrd) on writing and printing polyphonic music. The Beatles, Michael Jackson and Drake never achieved that!

Not to be outdone, Bishop Thomas Ken was the author of the text. Born in 1637, his parents both died during his childhood and he was raised by a guardian. He was connected to the Westminster Chapel, and was devout in his connection to the English church of the time, and was known as a man of great conviction and character. When Charles II came for a visit, he brought along his mistress and asked Bishop Ken to house her during his stay. The bishop quickly said his house was under repair and hired a builder to remove the roof!

During his life his willingness to hold to his principles sometimes gained him great respect and affection from monarchs, and sometimes got him fired. And yet, he persisted! He wrote many hymn texts, and is especially known for the texts for the Morning, Evening and Midnight Hymns, which have been in every English hymnal printed for the last 150 years at least.

Click HERE to enjoy this version of the evening hymn (#565 in the ELW), and note that verse two is sung in four-part canon. You are invited to sing along with this song in praise of our loving God, who protects and cares for us in all life’s many situations. Blessings on your musical journeys!

Karl Olsen
Minister of Music

1.	All praise to thee, my God, this night, for all the blessings of the light! Keep me, O keep me, King of kings, beneath thine own almighty wings.

2.	Forgive me, Lord, for thy dear Son, the ill that I this day have done, that with the world, myself, and thee, I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.

3.	Teach me to live, that I may dread the grave as little as my bed. Teach me to die, that so I may rise glorious at the judgment day.

4.	O may my soul in thee repose, and may sweet sleep mine eyelids close, sleep that shall me more vig’rous make to serve my God when I awake.

*Public Domain

Uncommonly Common

Oct 6, 2021 | Pastor Jim's Blog

Today’s Word from Pastor Tom…

“I’m an idiot!”

Not an uncommon piece of internal conversation I have that is never ever to be available for an outside audience. But it is, none the less, a fairly regular piece of ticker tape that floats across my frontal lobe. I mean really, “How can you miss a three-foot putt that bad? I’m such an idiot.” Or, really, what made me think that, “And they said it would never last,” would be a funny line to say to a middle-aged couple six months into their third marriage. “I’m an idiot” is my internal fallback self-evaluation. Ugh!!

It is never good when (in the spirit of my beloved Mariners) my mouth goes to the batter’s box while my brain remains in the “on deck” circle. It is nothing short of a gift from God and a blessing for “thy Kingdom come” that I only say every fifth great thing I think of. You’re with me on that one, right? So, in advance, I want to thank you for your grace. Yet, no one beats me up emotionally more than I beat me up… “I’m such an idiot.”

But there is good news…

“Then Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, said to them: ‘Rulers and elders of the people!

If we are being called to account today for an act of kindness shown to a cripple and are asked how he was healed then know this, you and all the people of Israel: It is by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified but whom God raised from the dead, that this man stands before you healed.

Salvation is found in no one else for there is no other name under heaven given to all people by which we must be saved.’

When they saw the courage of Peter and John and realized they were unschooled, ordinary men, they were astonished and took note that these men were with Jesus.” Acts 4:8-10, 12-13

The word “ordinary” in Greek is “idiotai.” To be an idiot is to be an ordinary person! Isn’t that amazing? Nothing wrong with being ordinary; I’ve made a life out of it.

Filled with the Holy Spirit, Peter and John, two very ordinary men, leave the learned Temple authorities and theologians of the day flummoxed for a response. The best these professionals could do in response to the charge that they had crucified Jesus whom God then raised from the dead, was to instruct them to stop talking about it. Awesome. A great day for the idiots. Yay team Christian!

You can see the lesson, can’t you? Ordinary is not pejorative. Ordinary, inspired by the Holy Spirit, can bear witness to a story, a truth, that can stand before any authority.

The confidence we have in Jesus fills us with a courage for our living and our story telling. Gifted with a courage to trust in grace. Grace to forgive ourselves when we forget to bring our brain to the conversation (or grace to forgive ourselves for missing a silly putt).

Okay, all you fellow idiotai! Quit apologizing or making excuses for being too ordinary to be a witness for Jesus. Have courage and tell the story of your church’s love of Jesus and the diﬀerence we are making in the world. Use words if you have to.

Now, if I can just find a way to slow down that ticker tape screaming across my frontal lobe when I gack up a short putt. Be at peace, God loves us common folk. We can do some pretty uncommon things.

Pastor Tom

More Kindness

Oct 6, 2021 | Pastor Jim's Blog

Today’s Word from Deacon Amy…

“Nothing in nature lives for itself. The rivers do not drink their own water; the trees do not eat their own fruit; the sun does not shine on itself and flowers do not spread their fragrance for themselves. Living for others is a rule of nature. We are all born to help each other. No matter how difficult it is…Life is good when you are happy; but much better when others are happy because of you.” – Pope Francis

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about choosing kindness; we don’t always have a choice in what happens to us in life, but we do have a choice about how we react to it. I try to do my best to choose to react with kindness.

Since writing that message, I’ve heard from several people who have become more aware of their own choices, and the opportunities that they have to express kindness toward others. After all, it is not the cashier’s choice to charge us 8 cents for a grocery bag now. Most likely, the call center representative that kept you on hold for 10 minutes really was trying to find a solution for your problem. Choosing to react to these situations with kindness can brighten the day for those that you interact with – and can improve your mood as well! I’ve found that paying a compliment to someone else can make me feel wonderful!

My dad is a Vietnam Veteran. Fifty years after returning home, he is still paying the price, as the effects Agent Orange are now impacting his body. He has recently come to the point where he needs to use a walking stick or a cane to help maintain stability. My mom wanted to find him something that would fit his style – not just a standard “medical” cane. So, she turned to their local community group on social media and asked where she could purchase such a thing. The responses were overwhelming. Several people told her where she could buy a walking stick or cane, but even more people offered to supply one for him.

The most touching response came from a fellow veteran. Nearly two years ago, he finished hand carving a beautiful walking stick with the intent of donating it to a Veteran’s organization. When the pandemic struck, donations were no longer being accepted, and that walking stick found its way to the back of his closet where it has been gathering dust ever since. When he read my mom’s inquiry, he knew that the stick had been waiting for just such a time.

They met up in a local parking lot, and he proudly handed the beautifully carved walking stick to my dad. He was thrilled that it would be used and loved. He was very humble about his gift, simply saying that it was an honor to be able to share. My dad, in turn, handed over one of his challenge coins. They looked into each other’s eyes and shook hands, united by kindness.

Fifty years ago, they were both young men in a terrible situation. Today, they are still paying the price, their bodies and minds deeply affected and hurting. But, despite the pain, both of these men chose kindness. They both chose to move forward with generosity, humility, and care for another.

Let’s keep choosing kindness. Let’s spread the love.
Deacon Amy

Drills – Revisited

Oct 5, 2021 | Pastor Jim's Blog

During Pastor Jim’s Sabbatical, we have decided to revisit some previous missives. They were written in the earlier days of the pandemic. The original publication date has been left on the missive.

A Word from Pastor Jim
March 18 2020

I remember the drills. Not the dentist; that is a different story. Not the drills that my golf coach had for us; that, too, is a different story. The good news or bad news is that if this coronavirus goes on for weeks or months, you may indeed get to hear all of my stories.

Where was I? Oh, yes, the drills from grade school. “Class, we are all going to be practicing our drills this morning.” I was thrilled! I hated math. I could not spell. My best subjects were recess and drills.

“Now class, if there is an emergency, we will tell you what to do. So, do not panic, everything will be OK. Now, who knows what to do if there is a nuclear attack by the Russians?” The fat boy in the back of the room who could not spell or do math, quickly raised his hand. “Jimmy, what do we do?” “We get under our desks and cover our heads and wait for the blast to pass.” “Very good Jimmy! Now class, let’s practice and remember, do not hurry or panic.”

What followed was three minutes of a simulated nuclear explosion. I am guessing that our school was gone and most everyone we loved was incinerated, but we were safe under our desks.

“Now class, what do we do if there is a tornado coming? Jimmy, let someone else answer, I promise you we will go to recess soon.” Rita raised her hand. “Mrs. Burke, we go out in the hall and stand with our heads against the lockers to protect us.” “Very good, Rita. In a minute the alarm will sound and we will not panic. Just walk by rows out into the hall to the lockers and take your places until we get the all clear signal.”

I am not sure what those drills were for, but I guess I did feel safer when I heard about tornadoes or Russians. But in reality, it was an illusion. Life is inherently dangerous. Even if we play it safe, follow the rules, wash our hands, eat low-fat foods, and look both ways before crossing the street we can still be caught up at any moment in a calamity.

The coronavirus is a crisis that is not of our making. We had nothing to do with it, but it is here. Suddenly, and with very little warning, we are all imperiled. Getting under our desks or standing in the hallway will do little to lessen the risk. Our finances are in shambles, our roads and cities are locked down. We are not allowed to worship together. We are, however, fortunate to live in a place where we can still go out for recess. In major cities, the opportunity to walk the beach or the neighborhood has been taken away for public safety.

We are not responsible for this crisis, but we are not helpless either. We were baptized for moments like this. We have the opportunity to be beacons of hope to our neighbors. We can order food from local restaurants. We can use technology to reach out to friends, old and new. In the church office, we are making every effort to keep in contact with some 1,000 people.

Let’s be clear, this will get worse before it gets better. We know that we will not be worshiping together for at least eight weeks. The virus is here, we have several in our parish who have tested positive already. We know that there will be more.

The drills. The drills will not protect us 100%. Life has no such guarantees. Do not be afraid, and do not panic. Here is the drill: wash your hands, stay away from others, pray for health care workers and first responders, pray for those who have tested positive for the virus, send a card, email, or letter, and hold on to hope. This crisis will not last. This virus will have a shelf life, and brilliant scientists are working to defeat it.

And finally, do not forget my favorite subject: recess. Get out of your house and go for a walk, enjoy the sunshine and the beauty of Whidbey Island, breathe deep knowing that God is with us and we are in this together.

My love to you!
Pastor Jim

Twenty-Fifth Anniversary in Our Sanctuary

Oct 2, 2021 | Pastor Jim's Blog

Today’s Word from Pastor Jim…

Twenty-five years ago, we were preparing for our first worship service in our newly built sanctuary. We had been planning, fundraising, and laboring for years in anticipation of this day. In August of that year my parents would be celebrating their 45th wedding anniversary. My siblings and I decided to honor them by engaging local potter Pete Wolff to create a large baptismal bowl to adorn the sanctuary. My parents were touched. “Better than a tie,” my dad said. In October they traveled from DeKalb, Illinois to join the Trinity family in the dedication of our worship space. It would be my father’s final visit and my parent’s last anniversary.

Harold Lindus was 69 years old and recently retired as we teed off on the first hole of Useless Bay Country Club on that October day in 1996. My father taught me how to golf at a public 9-hole course in the summer of 1969. As the decades passed, we played hundreds of rounds together. He had followed me at tournaments and taken me with him to legendary Chicago country clubs to play with his clients. His blue eyes, weathered Norwegian features, and strong forearms made him quite imposing on the golf course. He dreamed that I would have a life in golf or business.

We were 250 yards down the fairway that day when my father leaned over and began to vomit. I ran to his side. He was fine he said; he told me that he had not been feeling well. He completed the round with a par on the difficult 18th hole. Later that night I made him promise that, as soon as he returned back home to Illinois, he would make a doctor’s appointment. The painful journey to death had already begun; pancreatic cancer would take his life just three months later.

I have baptized hundreds of babies, children, and adults over the past 25 years in that baptismal bowl. Two of my grandsons were baptized there, unaware that the clay bowl honored the marriage of their great-grandparents. On many Sundays, I playfully touch those waters and disperse wet baptismal blessings on faithful worshippers who bravely sit on the center aisle. I touch those waters, I take my place by the little Jordan River and distribute bread and wine; I stand with confirmands, college students, and traveling pilgrims as we send them out into the world.

The bowl: simple clay in the hands of a potter, it took on shape and life, it honors God and the marriage of two departed lovers. The bowl: a working piece of art, it has served faithfully now 25 years after its mostly forgotten dedication. The sanctuary of Trinity Church; 25 years of laughter and tears, 25 years of joy and sorrow, 25 years of choir anthems and concerts, 25 years of Christmas candlelight services and Easter celebrations. For 25 years there has been a steady parade of sinners coming to the waters, there to bathe in grace. 25 years of funerals and weddings, 25 years of small miracles and life-changing encounters.

On October 24th we will be marking our 25th anniversary in the sanctuary with inspired worship, a grand party, historical photos, uplifting music, and a festive coffee hour. I would encourage you to make every pandemic effort to come out that Sunday. We are here because others were here before us. We stand on the backs of dear saints now departed; let us join hands and hearts and move boldly into a Gospel future.

Much love,

Pastor Jim

Walking in Limbo

Sep 30, 2021 | Pastor Jim's Blog

Today’s Word from Mark Winslow

This pandemic time reminds me a great deal of a previous time in my life about forty years ago. Walking in limbo.

I was 28 years old and experiencing the happiest day of my life, at that time. I was getting married to the woman I loved, Marsha. As you could imagine, it was a very special day. We celebrated with our friends and family. Fast forward, six weeks.

We are both at arms’ length, lying on the pavement. I am looking at her, listening to her moan, and speaking softly in much pain. We had just been hit head on, on the highway near Coupeville, by a drunk driver. It was 10:30 in the morning.

Marsha spent the next four months in a coma, at Harbor View Hospital. I was completely broken. There was nothing I could do for her. During that time, I remember my father advising me to continue to pray for a miracle, but to pray for strength as well, for both her and me. We would need that strength.

He also told me not to give energy, hate, and bitterness towards the person who caused this senseless and tragic event. My energy needed to be concentrated on helping Marsha get better. It wasn’t easy to accept that advice, but it was in our best interest. Bitterness, he said, could consume me, and it would not help Marsha in her recovery. He was right.

Marsha woke up from her coma about four months later. She was badly brain injured, and could not use the right side of her body. She also could not swallow, so she had to have a permanent Tracheotomy, which took away her ability to speak. It was, without a doubt, a living nightmare. I had no choice but to carry on, and do all I could for her. A few weeks after the accident I had to go back to work, had to pay the rent.

On my first day back at work, an older coworker approached me. She said to me, “If people offer to help you in some way, let them. Acts of kindness and love will help both you, as well as the people who care about the two of you.”

The hospital recommended that I transfer her to a nursing home. I just couldn’t bring myself to do that. I could not allow her to recognize that she was in such a place and surrounded, for the most part, by much older people.

I was able to get her transferred to a brain rehabilitation center. The facility had approximately 250 people, mostly young, that had also been brain injured. One thing that I learned in the Rehab Center was that everyone copes with their burden in a different way. For me, prayer, and my love for Marsha, was what gave me the strength to persevere. Even with that, I found myself feeling very alone. In limbo.

Many times, I asked myself, “Why did God allow this to happen to her, and to us?” All my friends were enjoying their lives. Later in life, I came to realize that everyone experiences tragic moments in their lives: divorce, cancer, betrayal, death, and a host of other sorrows and challenges. I don’t believe God plays a part in the tragedy, but He does play a part in giving us the strength to heal, and carry on. Life is hard. But we are not alone.

A little more than two years after the accident, Marsha’s body gave up the fight. She was stricken with Septic Shock. The doctor told me she would pass away within a few days. He was correct. At that time our families, several nurses, and I were at her side. All of us were crying. When she died, I felt her spirit fly out the open window. It was a very strong feeling. She was free. A few minutes later the chaplain approached me.

He suggested to me not to let others tell me “how” to grieve. He also said to not put a time frame on my grieving. God, and nature, would take their natural course, and someday in the future things would get better. I followed that advice. He was right.

It took a long time for me to get over this time in my life. In all honesty, I still carry a bit of that pain. But that is natural. A great deal of strength and recovery was due to the fact that I knew in my heart that Marsha’s spirit was with God, free from any physical limitations. She was happy again — so I was as well.

Since then, I have been blessed that my best friend and wife, Colleen, has come into my life. I have also been blessed by being surrounded by Whidbey Island’s beauty, and many kind and loving friends. Life is hard. No doubt about it. But life is good. If we open our hearts to others, we are never truly alone.

These pandemic times have us all, in a sense, walking in limbo. Someday, this will pass. In the meantime, my hope is that we will all remember that love, kindness, and the strength of prayer, will get us through it.

Live each day to the fullest. Keep your eyes and hearts open for the simple “good things” that occur every day. Life is good!

Mark