Oh The Places You'll Go

I have been sitting at my computer for hours trying to write this incredibly articulate post that captures the traveling spirits I met in twenty four hours while in Montevideo. For a second I thought I had something good. It was going to be this super inspiring post about traveling, hostel living, and amazing strangers. Unfortunately my words could not really do this experience justice. There is no way to describe the feeling my stomach had speaking in Spanish, English and broken Portuguese to a nomadic twice Brazilian divorcee over a cup of coffee. I cannot even begin to describe the relief I received meeting not one, but three New Yorkers all living in Uruguay. Two of them were 2014 New Paltz grads back packing around the continent. After moving to Denver and waitressing for a few years, they decided to buy a one way ticket and pack some camping gear.  The other New Yorker was studying abroad for a semester in Montevideo. While we chatted on the beach she told me she was going to be spending Thanksgiving in Buenos Aires with her father and we rapidly swapped names of all of the sufficient ethnic restaurants we knew in our respected cities. It was light hearted and sweet. There was this sense of understanding, as if I have not been the only other person deprived of seasoning.  I was comforted by the encounters I had with strangers having at least two unsolicited conversations about racism in Argentina/ Uruguay initiated by white people. It was unreal.  But again, a blog post could not convey what this experience meant for me.

So instead I wanted to get into the core encounter. His name is Stanley, a British Millennial living in a developing hostel in Montevideo. He’s been saving for the last two years back in London working unflattering jobs and living in a small studio apartment until about six weeks ago. I was the first native English speaker he had met since his arrival. It was iconic how within the first ten minutes of our conversation we did the “How’s Brexit?”. . . “Well how’s Trump?” Superpower period of mourning. It was as if we both needed to grieve and breathe each other’s English speaking air before we could reflect on our privileged lives in Uruguay.

Stanley and I got into some heavy conversation that essentially summarized my Montevideo adventure. We were young, privileged, and had nothing to lose. Maybe that was anticlimactic for you but accurate none the less. All day I had been hanging out with girls who just decided to leave the U.S. and travel around a continent with little to no understanding of the language.  Another girl and I spent ten minutes complaining about culinary options while standing on a beach in the middle of November. That evening I listened to two Israeli guys complain about corrupt police in Paraguay and now I was telling my horror story of having to run around the city and pay a fine for overstaying my tourist visa that I in reality probably should not even have. One of the few times that I felt powerless over this entire three month span was when my passport was not my key to the world for about three hours.  A British guy woke up and decided that rather than living a boring life in London, he should do the same thing he was doing there just in Latin America. What was the worst thing that could happen? There was nothing tying any of us back to our homeland while at the same time knowing we can always go home if we wanted.

I like to think of myself as a free spirit but in reality I am a pretty serious control freak. I had known since I was about fifteen exactly which college and seminary I would attend. Before I had left for internship, I created a 60 site spreadsheet for potential Chaplain Residencies I could pursue when I return. Often times I tend to shrug things off but in reality I am always trying to plan my future years in advance. Not only so, but the organization of my planning process has resembled the Americana-influenced, college then grad school then job. Never would I have ever planned a gap year or traveling that was not on a vacation schedule. Stanley on the other hand did everything I didn’t. He did not go to college. He went into the workforce, moved out of his parent’s house and made a commitment to himself to be happy with the life he was living. Both of us went two separate paths and ended up in the same position. Abroad. I realized how much I envied that willingness to not know and to be willing to receive all that comes your way. I love a plan B, C, and D. While others around me are living out of book bags and tents.

                Unlike the other folk that I encountered throughout the day, Stanley inquired about my morality as a millennial missionary. He asked me the traditional questions around the integration of church and society, more so if we are changing our morals to meet the needs of society.  Of course the topic got on to homosexuality which then led into having sex without procreation and reinforcing no sin is greater than the next.  The topic itself was nothing substantial but to me, it was one of the most refreshing conversations I had in a while. Yes, I have been working in a church setting but very rarely do I get to have theological conversations with anyone other than pastors. Back in the states I had these conversations all the time. There was always someone interested in talking about church and society. So far in Argentina it has been almost unspoken about. In my opinion, being able to have conversations that reflect an inclusive theology can have a significant influence on my generation. There is a reassurance of the church your grandparents used to drag you to may not actually hate you.

                Stanley and I had concluded our dialogue with talks about immigration and the irony of our freedom to travel while others are literally dying to leave their homes. Both of us being from significant cities of large migrant populations, we felt very strongly about the well-being of our neighbors.  I remember him saying, “I am who I am because of immigrants.” Same Stanley, same. For a moment we were one in the same as we shared our love for different cultural dishes, various languages, and our friend’s parents loving us like we were their own. We grew up in places of curiosity and understanding. Who would I have become without the cultural richness my city offers? As Superpower countries, we are guilty of colonizing just about the entire world. We have waltzed into nations, divided them, raped and pillaged, and left when their resources became under our control. We acted as puppeteers in countries removing and replacing leaders as we choose, building terrorist regimes in order to keep their neighbors in check. Then we abandoned them. Not just nations, but the people. Then we act high and mighty when others seek refuge in their abusers. It’s just a bunch of bullocks if you ask me.

                I guess you can say my trip to Montevideo was a success. If you saw in my previous post I had my fill of being a tourist. I also had the great experience of just being alive. These experiences have definitely influenced my consciousness and how I bring the story of Jesus Christ to others. By treading lightly and remembering my privilege, I am also learning to see the gospel in a new light. As I travel, I carry with me mujerista and third world feminist theology books to accompany my periods of reflection. So at times when I slip there is still something to keep me check. This break from the church reminded me of how fortunate I am and has also showed me a lot about myself. I am learning. I am growing. I am here.

#ReclaimMissionary 

Vicar's Day Off: Montevideo

My trip to Montevideo is a two part reflection. This post is just one part as the second part takes a completely different direction. I wanted to present the very light hearted tourist things I did in a day. Life recommendation, visit Montevideo. If you need a good getaway, it is honestly just a wonderful place to see. To summarize my day. . . (or you can just watch the video at this point).

I took a 40 minute walk from Parque Rodo to Ciudad Vieja with a written map of the places I wanted to visit. During my walk through Palermo and Barrio Sur, I saw incredible street art that just continued to inspire me. My community of Grand Bourg has many murals, but nothing like this in my experience. It was amazing to see how the art was not limited to walls but also the sidewalk. There was so much representation in the art as well which is something I do not see in Argentina.

Ciudad Vieja is beautiful and clearly the tourist central as there was a Fedex Office, a number of American Hotel Chains, and street vendors. The museums were affordable. I think both were about $100 UYP which is less than $5.00 USD. The two museums were fairly small but they concentrated on only one artist each which is impressive in itself. In the video I make a comment about us not learning about Latin American artists in school but we are familiar with all of the classic European artists. This brings me to wonder why we learn more about our neighbors over the waters before our neighbors across the border.

I also saw a good amount of plazas. Everywhere there were small plazas for people to just enjoy the day long with significant statues of (insert historical figure here). Unlike others, I am not really good at just sitting around unless I am sitting on sand. I will say though, the greenery was breath taking and created a very tranquil atmosphere.

Before I headed back home I visited The Metropolitan Cathedral of Montevideo and my God was it beautiful. I joke in the video about being Catholic in a past life because no matter where I go I always find a Catholic church to visit. In the video we go around the walls looking at the various icons but there was one I noticed in particular with a brown skinned Jesus and Mary. I was so excited. Granted the rest of the statues were traditionally european but that one image I will never forget. I also pointed out how there was both a Uruguay flag and a Vatican flag on the altar. It was not until seminary did I start noticing flags on altars. There is definitely more to unpack there.

Finally I ended up back at the beach which is about a twenty minute walk in the other direction from the hostel were I stayed. I don't believe any day was over 80 degrees but the sun was powerful and the water was warm. The beach is on the river that separates Argentina from Uruguay. The water is so shallow I can walk easily 50 ft from the shore and still be less than waist deep. There were no serious waves which is essentially my ideal beach.

At this point my video recap ended but the rest of the day looked like me looking for food other than empanadas (which did not happen), walking down la Rambla, hanging out with the other hostel residents (which will be in the next blog post), and packing to head back to Argentina at 2am. I traveled for another 8 hours in the wee hours of the morning to catch at 3:45am bus, a 7am ferry, and an 8:53 train back to Grand Bourg. I fed my animals and headed to work. Just like that everything was back to normal.

#ReclaimMissionary

An Open Letter to Monday

Dear Monday,

I thought we were in a healthy place in our relationship. Normally you let me sleep in, enjoy time with my pets, and binge on Netflix until about 2:00pm. We have been doing pretty well together for the past three months. What made you change your mind? Do I not make you happy anymore? Is it because I didn't dress up for you like I normally do? We could have worked things out. All you had to do was say something. Apparently dropping hints is not your specialty so you had to drop bombs.

I woke up this morning at 7:45am with a smile on my face. My friend told me last night they only lived about 30 minutes from Puerto Madero, you know where the Buquebus to Uruguay is located. When I double checked the maps in the morning, it said an hour. I had already slept in though Monday. Now I'm getting anxious. All of the subway cars were tragically full but they ran every 2 minutes. I thought you were looking out for me. I even caught the 4 bus right on time too. We were doing well since it was only 9:00am when I arrived in Puerto Madero. I just wish you told me Puerto Madero was not just a port but a whole community. My Buquebus was at 9:45am and my anxiety was triggered. I walked for over a half an hour with my bag and rolling luggage around Puerto Madero looking for the terminal. I roamed the streets, and asked everyone for directions. Monday, did you know cabs don't accept credit cards out here? It was about 9:29am when the genuine fear of being late kicked in. All I had was USD but something told me a cab would take it but they all stopped driving down the street. That was when I saw the one lonely cab being cleaned out. Was that you Monday who sent my Angelito? He got me to the station by 9:36 and I gave him $10 USD just because it was a blessing to even be on time. I rolled my way across the lobby and waited at the ticket booth. I smiled and whipped out my passport ready for this new adventure, Uruguay! Then something came up. They told me I couldn't board. My tourist Visa had expired on the 19th and I could no longer leave the country. You would think they would force someone who has overstayed their welcome to leave but I guess that would be too easy for all parties. Even with this new speed bump I had, there was still hope. I just had to pay a fine at the immigration office. If I returned by the 12:30 ferry, I just would have to pay a ticket difference of $212 ARP ($14 USD). The attendant gave me the address for the immigration office and I saw it was located at the Retiro bus station. I got a little nervous Monday because I thought you were trying to give me the run around across town. Then when they told me Retiro was 3 blocks north, I realized who you really were Monday. It would have been easier for me to get to the Buquebus directly from my house because Retiro is my end of the line train station. You hurt me Monday and I was scorned. It was clear that you wanted to play hardball.

Again, I don't know why you chose to do this to me today Monday. I mean really, of all days to pull such a stunt. Very mature. *Sighs* It was 2 minute short of 10:00am when I grabbed my ticket at the immigration office. The front room was packed, lined with people from all over Latin America, the Caribbean, Africa, and a hand full from east Asia. The officer directed me to edificio 6 where the real magic happens. It was the equivalent of the DMV. There were booths of people on break when they just opened, seats among seats for people to wait, and monitors that displayed ticket numbers. I entered the building at M053 with ticket number M066 in my hand but by God that was not going to stop me. There were families and single people. There were elderly folks and young adults. There was you Monday and there was me. Around 10:26 my number was called. I know it was you Monday, impersonating a Federal employee, sitting in front of me as you told me my fee was $1500 ARP ($100 USD) and you don't accept credit or debit. You already knew my wallet was full of dollars waiting to be exchanged in Uruguay. Since I had been in Argentina I have managed to avoid banks and exchange money with my supervisor and visiting Americans. In the words of the 21st century American scholar Kevin Hart, "You gon' learn today." Monday if you wanted to take a break you did not have to break my wallet and my heart at the same time. I did not even know where a bank was in the area. You, the federal employee, told me near the Sheraton Hotel across from the train station. It was 10:30am and I had two hours to get $1500 ARP. I did not realize I was staring in a B rated film today. I thought I was the Queen of drama dear Monday, but once again, you outdid me.
My rolling luggage and I then trooped into Retiro just how you wanted. We rolled past the Sheraton covered in their international flags. We stopped at two banks, both who only served private clients but informed me of this "Casa de Cambio" or Change House. It is amazing how many forms you can take on in one day Monday. You went from the sun rising and fresh air to a pit of snakes feasting upon my pain. Let me tell you, when that cashier told me she could not serve me because my passport visa was expired, I was about to lose it. How do you refuse to convert money to someone trying to pay to leave your country? I have a suitcase in my hand. Where am I going, seriously? If you were a movie Monday, you would be the Aaliyah biopic from Lifetime on repeat. Just when you think it couldn't get worse, it plays again and you realize how much terribleness you missed the first time. For a second, I thought you defeated me Monday. I walked out of there feeling completely powerless. With only limited wifi, there was not much I can do. Who can I call at 11:00am to meet me in Retiro with $1500 ARP? 

For a second I almost began to cry. This was the most ridiculous situation that could happen and for what reason? Do I go home now? Does this fee increase if I wait a few more months to leave? At what point does a fine convert to jail time? Is this the same in the States? For those who do migrate undocumented, if this is common in the U.S. as well, no one is traveling back and forth as they please to visit family. You are essentially confined to the country. Then I thought about the faces in the immigration office this morning. I'm having a panic attack over a mistake. What have others gone through to get here? Is there someone living with them who can never go back home? Was it worth it? 

Monday, you had the best of me for a second. You had me at my most American, demanding a Venti Ice Skinny Caramel Macchiato at the local Starbucks. I was in panic mode calling my mom then my sister so she would call my mom. Growing up we had a saying, WWJD, "What Would Joan Do?" But Joan was not answering her phone to tell me what she would do. I know you got to her too Monday. Because you are a terrible day of the week and you ruin everyone purely for your own gain. You animal, you. There were no other options, I went into pep talk mode to coach myself out of this: "Alright Nic, we gotta get through this. You really can't give up and go home right now. That's way too much money down the drain. How are you going to explain this to the ELCA if the next time you try to leave you go in handcuffs? You know what, after this morning you deserve to go to Montevideo. Sit on the beach like you said, right? Right, now let's go get this money!"

As always, I was right. You don't deserve me Monday and you absolutely do not deserve my tears. I may be running around Buenos Aires looking like an off colored BOCA jersey but that is neither here or there. It was 11:15 when I ventured back into the hunt for Pesos. I tried to do a series of exchanges with a gift store around the corner. They said they accepted dollars so I offered them $100 bill to pay for a lighter. It was a no go. What else was I suppose to do Monday? The odds were not in my favor today. Fortunately the shop attendant, between me begging him to accept my dollars, shared his Venezuelan heritage and family background with me. Finally I broke and confided in a fellow Brown person who has also dealt with immigrations here in Argentina. I explained to him my situation and without the skip of a beat, he asked his coworker to cover the store as he walked me to another exchange place. He said "There are a lot of people on the street saying "change, change" but it's not safe. I will take you somewhere you can trust." We walked through a shady mall, down an alley, and to my right was a Colombian and Venezuelan owned business that I assume served with cash exchanges and transferring money back home. I almost cried. Aside from being overwhelmed with the kindness of walking me here, I saw a clear example of community. Yes, it is a business of sorts but everyone knows each other well. It felt like a safe space for those who are of different countries of Latin origin which is so necessary for these reasons. We need to take care of each other because no one else will. After you Monday, I know all too well how it feels to be let down by something you trust.  I waited for two people to complete transactions before it was my turn. They counted my money, wrote a post it note with how much I should receive and sent me to a second office for the Pesos. For a moment my anxiety was defeated by how scandalous all of this felt. After feeling like a leper in Jerusalem, someone finally finally brought me to Jesus. It was 11:34am and I had less than an hour.

It was a real bible miracle how I managed to not get swallowed whole by your antics Monday. Honestly. Truly. Then again, Faith Alone. Grace Alone. A cab stopped for me and we zipped over to the Immigrations Office. It felt like my brain turned off for those four minutes as I had no clue what he was saying to me. Of where do I come? United States, but why is he not accepting this answer? I am going to Uruguay, but he is resistant to this response too. We are going to have to sit in silence because right now my heart is pounding too loud to hear him. I walked in by 11:47am and completed all of my transactions by 12:03pm. At this point you were busy ruining someone else's life Monday. In those few minutes when you took your eye off the ball, I managed to plead for my freedom to leave and pay the fine. The federal employees collectively asked me where I was going and confirmed three times that I was leaving today. "Claro! Mi Buquebus es en cuarenta minutos!" Why are people doubting my desire to leave? There is literally no other reason why I would want to pay this if I planned on staying. When they handed me my documents I power walked my heart out of that office and took off for the Buquebus terminal. I walked passed the coast guard, a few boats, and the gate to Buquebus. It was a dirt road but I glided like it was ice. It was 12:13pm and others were still in the check-in process. Thank God.

$130 USD later and I made it to Uruguay. 

Honestly Monday, I don't know what I would have done if you threw anymore curve balls at me. Break ups are hard but this is just tacky. There has never been a time where I dreaded you like I did today. Maybe this has been happening all along and I have just been negligent to your behavior. Now that I think of it, on two other occasions you have maliciously attacked all of my decency but like today, I overcame your hate. With this being said, I am writing to you to confirm this break up. You are no longer an acceptable day of the week. You will now be referred to as "Mud-day" as mud is unwanted as well yet somehow we still have to deal with it. Best of luck in the future. I hope you get marked off of everyone's calendar and lose your privilege of being called a "day" in the English language. While you continue to be the bitter lingering ex that everyone cringes around, I am going to live my best life and better plan out my 90 day trips. 


Regards,

Nic

#ReclaimMissionary

Off the Bench and Into the Game

“Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.”

 - Martin Luther

            When I began seminary in the spring of 2013, my Pastoral Care class dedicated an entire lecture around 9/11 literature. For pastors, chaplains, and other clergy types this would be the event that impacted their entire ministry. This was a transformative experience for all of the U.S. I remember returning to seminary in the Fall of 2014, after the murder of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri. While some of us were in classrooms hundreds of people were protesting every single day demanding justice for our slain brothers. Then the Grand Jury announcement came and chose not to indict Officer Darren Wilson. Seminary Professors kept saying, this is your 9/11. This will be the event that shapes your entire ministry . . . and they were right.

The murder of black people by public servants and local vigilantes in the United States is a clear reminder that social and institutional racism is quite real. What many of us were not prepared for was the unveiling empowerment of institutional White Supremacy. For some seminarians we have spent our entire academic track watching our nation invoke Willie Lynch, Adolf Hitler, comparative representations of the fictional Lord Voldemort and President Snow that would one day come to life in the nightmare we now know as the 2016 elections. Within a week we have seen a vast increase of hate crimes against all marginalized groups of people. We are witnessing Grand Wizards of racism and intersectional bigotry enter the White House. However if we are able to normalize the lynching of brown bodies and excuse elementary school shootings, none of this should actually come as surprising. It is 2016 and it feels like we never left the 1950’s.

            Us as clergy types have been placed in a tight spot trying to balance our own emotions, fears, and grievances while also ministering to those in the same position. Right now there are dozens of vicars in their first full time congregational contexts trying to walk this type rope. Though I am a vicar, my international context has left me in a different standing than my colleagues back home. For this reason I have called on vicars from other seminaries and other denominations to share their stories and reflections since the elections. For the reader today who is at a loss of words, who has lost hope in the world, or who just needs to hear they are not alone, it is my hopes that these reflections can bring comfort to you.

We Are Called:

"Serving in a parish in the middle of a rather democrat heavy area during this election has been difficult. Our church opened its doors the day after the election to welcome those who needed prayer or pastoral care. Only one person came, but as I got ready for those open sanctuary hours, as I put in my collar, I didn't know if I was ready to be pastorally present to others. I was already hurting myself, it was my first dose of realizing what a call can mean and the weight one must bear. I can say that my supervisor and I have seen a marked increase in those who need pastoral care or who need to talk. I imagine every context is different, but here where I am one could feel almost a shroud over us. A lot of people seemed to be in shock and not know what to feel. As I prepare for Sunday and the sermon I will preach I am trying to see where the spirit is leading me and what I am to say. I don't know what lies ahead, but with God's help we will all walk that path together."

 – Blue Church, Red State

           

“Having spent some time reflecting on the election personally as a woman and in my pastoral context of Compton and South Central Los Angeles, I would like to offer these thoughts to my community. I challenge each of you, my friends, to invite someone with whom you did not agree over this election out for a cup of coffee. Then while you are together, choose to listen instead of talk, choose to love instead of hate, choose to lean in instead of pulling away. We must show those in leadership how to work together. We have to power to lead with our own actions and attitudes toward each other.

Our greatest guide for our own behavior is in these words that were written 1900 years ago to a community in great conflict. "If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." (1 Cor 13:1-7)

Pastor SN, my supervisor and pastor of PB has chosen Jeremiah 29:4-7 as the focus of a predominately Latino community in Compton, CA.

4 This is what the Lord Almighty, the God of Israel, says to all those I carried into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon:

5 “Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce.

6 Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease. 7 Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.”

He sees this election as an opportunity for the Latino community to take responsibility for itself and claim its role in this country. To make sure that children are educated and encouraged to pursue careers. That drugs and alcohol are not used and that no one abuses the welfare and social services of this country but instead works for self-sufficiency and responsibility at all times. This is an opportunity to show that Latinos are full-fledged citizens of this country along with everyone else.  While SN is issuing this challenge as a member of the Latino community, I am offering my support and encouragement to the community. We do not need to live in fear but instead live into the love of God and trust that God is calling us to stronger faith in all that is happening."

 – Lat(in)America Context

“I have been serving on internship in Washington, DC for several months with a fairly large and relatively left-leaning congregation. They have been publicly affirming and welcoming to LGBTQ+ people for over a decade now, and although I have certainly felt welcomed and affirmed as a gay man serving as vicar, there always seems to be a quite vocal minority population in most liberal communities that pushes back against efforts to change and expand the narrative of what it means to live and serve as followers of Christ. The congregation is also fairly homogenous in terms of their ethnic demographic, and I believe that same attitude extends towards people of color as well. There seems to be this sense that it’s great and necessary to have a message of inclusion and love for all in a broad general sense, when it’s being done “out there”, but when it comes to your front door and means that you as a white, straight individual might need to expand your theology and sense of community, and thereby actually have to change and become uncomfortable in the process, then a sense of pushback and resistance emerges. Particularly after the recent elections, one of my goals in ministry here is to work with the congregation as a whole and also with individuals within the community, to work on their flexibility, their ability to adapt, and to help them understand their own identity and how that relates to others who do not share that identity, all the while looking for points of identity overlap to help build bridges between our congregation and the community that surrounds us. There will undoubtedly be a delicate balance of pushing them to bend without breaking, using a prophetic voice to call out problematic behaviors and attitudes, and supporting them through the process with the gospel and Spirit of justice and love throughout. This will certainly mean greater risks for myself in the process, but we are way past the point where we can be comfortably complacent and willfully ignorant without causing great harm to our siblings in Christ, and I believe the position of vicar allows for a wider margin of risk and frees me to do more challenging work that I might not be able to do if I were serving in a permanent call.

–Freedom in the Capital

“I do ministry on a college campus, so being a liberal soon-to-be pastor, I assumed most college students agreed with most of my political opinions. I quickly learned that, yes, most of the students I do ministry with are liberal, but I also have been learning to make space for those whose political ideology was different than mine.

At our church, the students talk about everything—religion, classes, vestments, puppies, football, and, of course, politics. So, this Fall, we had our debates and discussions about political candidates, the death penalty, human rights, and the like. We all had a general idea where each of us stood come Election Day.

I sat on my couch Tuesday night and watched my television closely. Watching the polls felt worse than watching football. When Trump won, I was shocked. I shared a picture on Facebook, and a couple hours later someone from the fringes of our community posted a hateful response against people who are transgender. I was pissed. Since he made that vile, angry, bigoted comment that I knew was harmful to someone within our community, I promised to never be silent in the face of that talk again.

The following day at work, many of us were mourning together. One student who hadn’t cried in two years, and often bragged about having no soul, cried after the election. She cried. Because of our president-elect. I cried. My co-workers cried. Students cried. We had discussion together. I hugged students that needed hugs, and I heard a student preach a beautiful sermon about God pursuing, even when we cannot understand what’s happening.

During a conversation one of our students commented how she didn’t want to talk about the election anymore. I think partially she felt isolated because she was the only person in the lounge that voted to keep the death penalty, but it was obvious she had enough. And when I read aloud the first four sentences of my sermon for Sunday, she confirmed to me, “I think that’s enough about the election.” Enough? Really? The student was obviously irritated, but I struggled to empathize with her in that moment. I just didn’t care. I was worried about my friends who are actually scared right now. Their fear matters more than her comfort.

Being in my context, I feel I can sometimes be more honest than if I were at a traditional church, but I’m always reminded that my bubble of thought isn’t the only bubble of thought in a college campus. I feel called to preach the Gospel in the most honest way. This week, Luke’s Gospel speaks of chaos, war, people turning against each other, and uncertainty. Chaos. How fitting. So, I preach the chaos because it’s exactly how this country feels right now.

I assume each week will begin to feel more “normal”, but we will continue to have conversation because that’s what we do at our church. And, I am reminded of my good friend/co-worker’s words, “I don’t want to be complacent as time goes on.” I don’t want to be comfortable. I don’t want to be complacent, either. And I pray to God people at my church and my friends won’t let me be.”

– Blue Bubble Wrapped

“I am a six foot, heterosexual, cisgender European American born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I have been involved in evangelical congregations and I have been serving catholic communities for the past decade. I am an ordained deacon in the Catholic Church who is studying to be a priest. This year I am serving in a Spanish speaking parish in the metro Atlanta area. I'm learning Latino culture as well as practicing Spanish as a second language. The current congregation is eighty percent Mexican descent, with many
other Latino and South American countries represented. There is a large population of immigrants in this community, which totals five thousand plus families.

As a progressive Christian in this congregation during this particular
election cycle, I am invited to be in solidarity with a people who are
fighting for their citizenship, as well as basic human rights. I offer ministerial accompaniment as someone who desires to defend those without a voice in the larger culture. My preaching has focused on salvation by God's grace, which in the catholic world, pushes up against neo-Pelagianism tendencies. The Good News of the Gospel has been my focus, something that pronounces blessing to those who are mourning and hope to the seemingly hopeless.

Race has been a large issue that I have encountered. I am learning what it is like being a minority. I'm one of the few white individuals to step foot in this congregation. I represent something to the congregation, but I'm not sure what. Surely it's different for everyone, but I'm also aware that my presence speaks, despite not knowing what exactly it's saying. I could very well pose a threat to many and I am working hard to display myself as non-threatening. In a country where Hispanic migrants are a minority, I have to be cautious about how I come across. Thus, my identity as a tall white male who has entered into a Latino context of thousands has proved to stir up identity questions in myself. What does it mean to represent white privilege in the Latino context? Why am I offended that the community doesn't want to work with the larger culture? How am I supposed to respond when people limit me to my skin color? What does it take to be comfortable and confident in my European-American identity when I'm a minority? What do I do with these feelings of being a minority? I am finding myself at the interconnection of the larger church and the larger culture, hoping to be a bridge of peace for a very large community that is seemingly overlooked.

As a Christian, I seek solidarity with those who are suffering. Many individuals in this community are suffering undocumented statuses. Over the years I have worked with immigrants in Chicago as well as the Mexican side of the Mexico/Arizona border. When I look at the stars at night, I remember those faces who have fought the desert walk, the coyote challenge, and have encountered dangerous obstacles along the migrant journey. Here, in this congregation, I have found myself walking, sitting, and praying with those who are in the United States but have yet to reach their promise land. Parents have the hope that their children reach the opportunities that they have never been offered themselves. The journey out of Egypt displays a vision of the situation of this people, walking a difficult, often dry escape into a better tomorrow. As Moses led the people through the desert with doubts and frustration, I have found myself hoping and praying that God will indeed deliver his promised peace, pronto.

The current election cycle has caused much disruption in the air. It's as if Jerusalem sent a messenger to Moses's people to tell them that they may very well see their families separated and sent back to where they are coming from. I remind the community of the liberating Gospel, the promises of God, and the constant accompaniment of Christ. God is in our sufferings, God is with us. Jesus knows our struggle, desires to empower us, defend our cause, and wants to see us flourish as humans.

I am growing to be a part of the community. At first, I was an outsider, and in a sense I always will be. But I desire to be a part of their community just as a brother (or step-brother) is a part of the family. As a progressive Christian, I make sure to attempt empowerment as much as possible, and the God of the Universe has placed me in personal encounters with parishioners for the sake of such encouragement. God is with us and we all know it here, yet were also hoping for liberation in this world.

Shamelessly, I wanted to be a part of this community to better my Spanish fluency. My entire life I have made decisions with terrible intentions, but God has always seemed to show up, shown me my incompetence/ignorance/obnoxiousness and has always seemed to offer resurrection. While my intentions were once that, they've now changed
as I continue being a minister in this community. Why ought I to continue? That is my current question to myself. I am comfortable with my Spanish fluency and yet I'm still here. I suppose I'm moving forward with this specific question in mind.”

–Getting Uncomfortable for Others to be Comforted

"Living in Chile this past week has been surreal. I spent all of last Wednesday on the verge tears, struggling to answer the question many Chileans have been asking me, "But how did Trump win? I don't understand." I don't either. And that's a big part of the problem. I cannot comprehend the fact that a majority of white Christian women voted for a man who is a sexual predator, a white male supremacist, and someone who exemplifies extreme and sinful greed. This means I completely lack understanding for a significant number of my fellow countrymen and women, many of whom are present in the pews in ELCA churches. I am angry and utterly devastated about the results of the election. I am angry and utterly devastated that so many of my Black and Brown and LGBTQ brothers and sisters in Christ feel even more vulnerable and unsafe than they did before. I am angry and utterly devastated that my right as a woman to make decisions about my own body has been called into question. I am angry and utterly devastated that my sister's six year old students are asking her if their parents are going to be sent back to Mexico without them. And it hurts so badly to be thousands of miles away from my friends and family who are terrified for their physical, emotional, and spiritual safety. 

I don't understand. And I am angry and devastated. And yet. My hope remains in the living God, made incarnate in Jesus of Nazareth, crucified by the powers of Rome, and risen on the third day. 

Psalm 146 says, 

"Do not put your trust in princes,

    in mortals, in whom there is no help.

4 When their breath departs, they return to the earth;

    on that very day their plans perish.

Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob,

    whose hope is in the Lord their God,

6 who made heaven and earth,

    the sea, and all that is in them;

who keeps faith forever;

7     who executes justice for the oppressed;

    who gives food to the hungry."

My ultimate hope is in the Lord my God, not in the American political system or any public official. And so I will continue to preach this God, who makes justice, feeds the hungry, cares for the stranger, and sets the prisoners free. And I will try to understand the people I am called to serve and called to love. For with God, all things are possible."

-Angry For Justice 

Final Thoughts:

This is one of the more significant times where I have felt alone during internship. I can’t just call my friends and cry or check out for the day. I feel like I abandoned my friends and community members. For the first few days I just kept thinking about my students back in Philadelphia. Many of them were women, Muslim, in need of public assistance, and some were learning English as a second language. I have no outlet here. Back in the states I could reflect and preach my heart out to an audience that would hear me. I can’t preach with American politics in my heart to an Argentine audience. Then I thought back to the sermon I preached the week before for All Saints Day. I spoke about being able to pray for your enemy and acknowledging all people suffer, not just the oppressed. We raised our prayers to the cross and lit candles for the sins of our nations. Was that my elections sermon? The Sunday before I shared my grievances and dressed in white before the U.S. could disappoint me again but it did not make me feel any less relieved. This fall after losing two relatives, the elections made it feel like I lost another. Even worse, it felt like my country walked out on me. In one night, our skeleton of a marriage finally flew out the window. For years he had been abusing her children and stealing from her family. Then the U.S. finally packed his bags and left all of her values. The doors were left unlock and thieves came in to jack all that was left. In reality, I do not know if I would know how to be pastoral at this time. To be honest, I do not know how I could look at any of my old Sunday school kids in the face and not feel like I failed them. All I have to offer this dialogue is Romans 5: 3- 5, “And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, ⁴ and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, ⁵ and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” This is going to suck today. In fact, it is going to suck tomorrow too. And that is Okay. Because of this experience we are going to continue forward to learn from our mistakes and to grow as individuals and in communities. We will become better. Seeing that self-development often times leads to hope. Let hope lead you.

 – Motherless Child

#ReclaimMissionary

Let US Grieve My Dear Argentina

When I first touched down in Argentina, there were a few things my new neighbors introduced me to immediately; dulce de leche, the usage of vos in Castellano, and politics. Argentina has a fairly intriguing political history. In 1976 the military overthrew the new president Isabel Martinez de Peron, wife of the late president Juan Peron. They placed General Jorge Rafael Videla into office which began their seven year dictatorship. After over 30,000 people went missing, innocent citizens being tortured, and engaging in the first war Argentina had since it's independence, the administration finally ended in 1983.  The country was able to stablize themselves both politically, socially, and financially. For years the Argentine Peso matched the value of the US dollar. That of course was until the recession of 2001. The peso dramatically declined in value and loans Argentines that had taken out in USD became a major financial liability. Many were unable to pay them. The president at the time resigned and left the Casa Rosada. The Vice President was then sworn in and resigned immediately after. Within almost a week the nation went through nearly five presidents. It was complex, tragic, and chaotic for the nation.

As an American, many of these things I cannot genuinely relate to even if I wanted. Since the formation of the U.S. we have always had elections and overall poltiical stability. We have been a nation of protest and social injustice but never have been in a period without leadership. Though for many of our marginalized groups we have been used and abused by our government (Great Sioux War of 1876, Tuskegee Syphillis Experiment, forced sterilization in Puerto Rico, Jim Crow Laws, the bombing of Black Wall Street 1921 or the Tulsa Race Riot, boming of  Philadelphia 1985, Prision Industrial Complex, and forcing viewers to watch the CMAs unil Beyonce performed for raitings than deleting all evidence that she was there), these experiences do not necessarily equate to a dictatorship. In reality, I cannot fathom what our country would have looked like in the late 1970's in a dictatorship or going through 5 presidents during 9/11 and our recession. Our experiences are different and there is just about nothing I can say or do to make our experiences the same. 

Eventually Argentina went into a 12 year democratic term with Nestor Kirchner as president (2003-2007) followed by his wife Christina Kirchner (2007- 2015). Both were social democrats that worked in politics for a number of years prior to running for president. Many of my conversations here have been in favor of the Kirchner administrations. In 2015, the control of government was finally handed over to Mauricio Macri, who many of associated with to be the Argentine version of Donald Trump. Marci is the son of a business man who had also went that route early on with his career as a former civil engineer and business man. After being president of one of the top futbol clubs in the country, he ran for Mayor of Buenos Aires. In the 2015 presidential election, he not only ran but was elected into office. So far in his term Macri has been known for his conservative poltiics, his formation of the Propuesta Republicana electoral front also known as PRO, and being the first president to not invite the any of the former living presidents to the Argentine Independence Day event but instead the leader of Spain, the colonizing country of most of Latin America. Not only so but in his speech he also backhandedly apologized to Spain for Argentina seeking independence in 1816. Macri had also fired over 2,400 union workers after their contracts were not renewed, The evening of November 8th, 2016 Mauricio Macri also tweeted Donald Trump to congratulate him on his victory. Many Argentines have struggled with Macri's presidency as he has taken a very conservative stance on economics and has been very open about shaming and blaming the poor. I have heard very strong opinions around Macri and it is quite obvious that his popularity in the country is not high. However, his presidency so far has not been a threat to the nation. 

Meanwhile back in the States we have been experiencing a world wind of events over the past 18 months. Actually, for the past 397 years if we want to be real. Yet this campaign track has been one of the tackiest elections in U.S. history. Though we can back track and account for a collection of subjective situations that were quite embarrassing for citizens, I am only going to concentrate on November 8th and beyond. Since the elections, hate crimes and death threats have rose in the U.S. Last time I checked, about eight transyouth committed suicide since Trump and Pence won the electoral college. Stories have been shared of hijabi women being assaulted in public and having their hijabs pulled off of their heads. Queer individuals and couples have received written death threats left on their property. Swatiskas have have been drawn onto buildings especially in Jewish communities. Nigger has been dropped dozens of times, written on public restroom stalls. Black UPenn freshmen have been added to GroupMe chats titled "The Daily Lynching" and other horrendous names. Children are coming home from school sharing stories of them being told to sit in the back of the bus, being chanted at "Build the Wall" in the lunch room, or informed by their other classmates that they will be deported. The other day a 24 year old Saudi man was murdered in Wisconsin. Most recently a black family in a New York suburb shared a story of their home being egged and they being both the only black family on the block as well as the only house to have been violated. For both adults and youth, the United States has already become unsafe. It appears that the youtube comment section has actually come to life and people have become a little more bold after seeing their president elect support these injustices. The KKK of North Carolina has apparently arranged a celebratory march in honor of Trump and Pence. God Bless America. . . 

My friends and colleagues in Argentina have tried to console me since the elections, greeting me with deep sympathy as even they know Trump is not necessarily the healthiest choice for our nation. Many of my colleagues have also met me with the remarks "Now you know how we feel" or "We have Macri, I feel your pain." Though I know they mean this in a sincere and light hearted way and I can see how from the outside they would connect the dots. Yet I cannot help but feel frustrated when my neighbors try to relate to the American outrage. At first I laughed it off with them. I would smile and nod politely. Then more articles would show up on my timeline. A report of Trump's plan for the first 100 days. My friends would message me "Now you will know what Argentines feel." *Text Read* Not even in the mood to reply. Another article has appeared about Pence's desire to cut HIV/ AIDS programming and to fund Conversion Therapy. I tried to escape for a second and go to dinner with friends. The bartender disrupts conversations to ask about the elections. We talk for a while as I elaborate on hate crimes, deportation and mass incarceration. I break down the republican dominated government at the moment and how this creates space for dictatorship like behavior. He says "I don't know how they could elect Trump. That's how it was with Christina Kirchner." I shut down and let the conversation awkwardly die. We leave the restaurant and I yell at the top of my lungs. Everything New York in me was unleashed. 

My dear friends of Argentina, unless your marginalized citizens and undocumented persons are afraid to live their daily lives, your president(s) are not like the potential Trump administration. If and only if your country was built on the mass genocide of one group of people, the enslavement of another, the oppression and illegal containment of all non whites, the erasure of LGBTQ people, and the global imperializing powers of your military, then your woes of Macri or Kirchner does not equate to what Trump's nomination has triggered in the U.S. I recognize and respect your own call to social justice and the value you may find in all people. I appreciate your want to relate to my neighbors who are weeping. The sincerity is obvious which comforts me in a different way. In reality, people have been murdered in the streets by our public servants and have not been penalized under the Obama adminstration and I am terrified of what they may look like under the Trump administration. Flint and other cities in the U.S. still do not have clean drinking water. They are forced to accept poisoned water under the Obama administration and I genuinely fear what our government can get away with in the next administration. By this time next year it is likely that 47 million people can lose healthcare. Last summer a number of black churches were burned and I have yet to hear about the reprimanding of those who did it. Will that happen to mosques next?

My wonderful Argentine friends, you do not hate like Americans hate. You are lucky and blessed. There is no reason you should want to compare Macri to Trump as Macri has not enabled a national outlash against your "others". Macri has not put much of your citizens in a state of fear for their lives or weeping for their neighbors. Your kids do not come home and ask if they will be allowed to stay even if they were born here. Both countries share different struggles and yes we overlap in some areas. Hate thankfully is not one in the same amongst the two. I understand that you have very clear felings about your government as well and it may not benefit all people, especially those who have higher needs. We can grieve over that together. For eighteen months a few of us joked about leaving the U.S. if Trump was elected. He is now elected and some of us are really applying for Visas elsewhere. Some of us do not know what their present American Visas will mean in the next few months. I have never seen this before. I do not expect you have either under Kirchner or Macri. What is happening to my country is more than politics. Not much of this is translated into the news because these acts are very domestic. With that being said, I understand why you do not see the differences. For that reason let this be your notice. You're in much better shape than you may think. This is our cross to bear today. 

#ReclaimMissionary

Remaining In The Red

"You can't swing a cat without hitting a Lutheran."- Red State Proverb

In a few months I will go through my final stages of the ELCA Candidacy Process. The Metro New York Candidacy committee will look over my profile one last time. They will read my 20+ page written with care essay that breaks down my understanding of Lutheranism, the ELCA, word and sacrament ministry along with a splash of other ministerial topics that the church found interesting this year. The committee will review my faculty approval, all of my internship evaluation forms, my promising transcript, and any other piece of information they require from me. Based on how I have been performing, I feel very good about this part. My pending approval will send me to the next step of the ELCA assembly line into the assignment. That is the part of the process where most people are women, LGBTQ, POC, disabled etc are left in limbo. Eventually I will speed date with 65 Bishops that will never hire me or will not have a congregation in their synod that will accept me. I will fill out paperwork with personal assessments about my ministry interests and location preferences. There will be a choice of three preferred regions or you can simply  check off "No Restrictions." The ELCA draft will then commence as other approved candidates and I will be separated first by region and later on by synod after the Bishops sort through our profiles. Eventually I will be given a church where I will interview and audition. Much like Tinder, if we both swipe Right apparently it's a match. Of course this match could take months, if not years. 

If you spoke to me forty eight hours ago and asked me where I would like to serve in the church, I would have told you I am not restricting myself. In fact, I had this conversation with the Nebraska Synod reps when they came to visit IELU. They assured me there were plenty of churches available and jestingly said "Remember, 4A", meaning I should request to come to the Nebraska Synod. For a moment I felt hopeful. The encounter was a reminder that when God moves you, She moves you with purpose. Maybe landlocked ministry was my purpose. During undergrad I had served at Lutherhill outdoor ministry in La Grange, Texas where I was first exposed to the rural context. This was the first time I had lived outside of New York. After serving all ethnic groups, all social classes, and all ages, I realized that my gifts were applicable to more than just an urban context. Six years later  I did a preach and teach in Lancaster County Pennsylvania about being an ally to people of color. During my time in town I spoke with members of the church about very tangible evangelism and youth projects the congregation can engage in to develop attendance. Again, there was that spark of hope.

Then election night came and I sat in the church office shading a portrait of Martin Luther as the results came in. Slowly but surely states began to light up. Unlike previous years this was not merely a choice of better politics. Where as one candidate reflected the same corruption the U.S. has dealt with in government for over two hundred years, while another one was endorsed by the Ku Klux Klan. The U.S. map lit up red as if Americans were painting their states with the blood of the lamb for the White Man's Messiah to passover. At first I was uncomfortable. Then I became wear. Around 1am my weariness transitioned into concern. He had taken Ohio.

Earlier that day my Lutheran Hungarian friend had just pleaded with his U.S. friends to be conscious about their vote:

"Dear American friends, although today is your national election, but the outcomes will influence the lives of billions of other people, who cannot take part in your vote (I know, it sucks to be so big), so please choose wisely. Please don't elect a man to be your wise leader, who argues like a five-year-old and can never admit when he is wrong! Please don't vote for a man, who doesn't even know when he is offending women, or minorities, or other groups of our society! Please don’t make a man president, who cannot even unite his own party, let alone the country, or the western world. Please don't make a man the leader of the free world, who wants to put journalists in prison, or who openly supports Vladimir Putin (who not only invades other countries, but doesn't even have the guts to admit it i.e.: Crimea). And even more don't vote for a man, who is supported by Vladimir Putin, a man supporting the bloody regime of Syria, a man whose army is constantly bombing innocent civilians in Syria! (It should raise questions in your head, why this man is supporting Trump!) And most importantly, please don't make a man Commander-in-chief, who says he would not defend Americas Eastern European allies, who - when asked by the US - fought side-by-side with your military in Afghanistan and Iraq. This man does not respect the veterans, this man does not respect honesty, this man does not respect democracy! If you make him president, you are betraying everything your country has ever stood for, everything it has fought for! So please do everything you can, to stop him become president! The beauty of democracy is that even one vote can make things a whole different! The decision might be yours, but we all have to deal with the consequences!"

I had read other statuses of my undocumented friends, my friends who recently received work visas, trans and queer friends, hijab wearing friends, and friends also serving abroad right now asking their Facebook friends to think of their safety today. Friends posted statuses with photos of recent hate crimes they personally experienced while sharing stories from others. It reminded me of all those photos of small black children offering free hugs to teach police officers that they are not to be feared. In 2016 we are still trying to prove our value as humans to other people. Still people looked at our suffering, our grieving, our pleading, and said to us " that is nice but the emails. . ."

As the states lit up in red during a campaign that enabled sexual assault, rape, racism, xenophobia, Islamaphobia, homophobia, misogyny, and violence, my stomach churned. In one swoop Texas to North Dakota turned red as Minnesota and Illinois hung their like strange fruit. The Red Sea I was looking at is also home to the majority of my denomination. But we have social statements about racial justice, abortion, human sexuality, health care, and peace. With all the money we spend on national assemblies to clear up our politics, you would think the return on investment would show in our elections. In reality, while only 23% of the U.S. population is located in the Midwest, 51% of ELCA Lutherans are located in the Midwest (64% of LCMS Lutherans live in the Midwest). That includes the state of North Dakota where Indigenous Sioux people are combating big business for clean water in their territory as promised in a treaty from 1857. The Midwest also includes the very Lutheran Minnesota where Philando Castile was murdered in front of his daughter by the police. I am curious what gospel our pastors will preach on Sunday.

It was close to 4:47 in the morning when it was confirmed, he had taken the U.S. and he had taken the values of our nation with it. I messaged my Lutheran Hungarian friend with apologies and repentance for the injustices committed by the U.S. I am sorry my friend. We failed you. We failed ourselves. While he who shall not be named may not turn out to be the president that he campaigned to be, his supporters will be the problems to all marginal groups that they promised to uphold. Like many of us, I am hurt. We are in a state with a very conservative executive branch, a conservative legislative branch, and potentially a conservative judicial branch as two spots are presently available to be appointed by the president elect. In a country where we depend on checks and balances to remain order amongst our government, how do we remain order if everyone is on the same team? I am thousands of miles away and still fear for my life. I can only imagine what pain my communities bear.

If you were to ask me where I would like to serve in the church, I would laugh at your question. At this point I do not even know if I am called to serve a church in the U.S. right now. As the ELCA develops their plans to adjust the assignment process in order to best place pastors in synods with church openings, these same vacant churches are products of baby boomers. They are located in most of the same territories that would rather build an economy catered to big businesses than allow people to live without fearing for their lives. Today alone, I have read more stories about hate crimes across the country than I have this entire year. Can we as church expect any non- White able body heterosexual male to serve in these contexts as danger has now presented itself for all of those who do not meet this criteria. If we will reasonably pull queer people from serving in an African context, we should be equally cautious with sending our marginalized ministers into fascist territories. With this reality, that then forces us out into the costs where congregations tend to be minimal and those that are vacant are financially incapable of supporting a pastor. Compromise for a part time call where you struggle to support yourself or begin the waiting process with other equally gifted clergy?

I will not die serving a church that will not vote for me to live. 

This morning I was greeted with embraces and messages of support from my friends here in Argentina. I spaced out during meetings and excused myself for some self care time. Students and staffed asked me how I felt after the elections. I had to speak on something I was struggling to fully digest. There were times I just asked for the TVs to be turned off. It was bad enough that Argentina was already struggling with their version of our president-elect.

"Congrats to @realDonaldTrump in your triumph and I hope that we can work together for the good of our communities"-President Mauricio Macri

On three separate occasions I was offered spaces to couch surf for the next four years in different countries. The whole world was watching last night as our country made this decision. Even though wifi has made me feel so much better recently, today I felt isolated all over again. I had my phone in my hand and I kept scrolling through articles and posts about today. Still, I felt alone. As if I was screaming and no one could hear me. My sweet amazing friends understand the frustrations of being on the losing side of an election but there is no words to articulate the 400 years of history that made this election so painful. Our history is not something we can thoughtfully articulate and summarize in one conversation. Trust me, I have tried. I want to be hopeful of what tomorrow will bring. Maybe there will be less hate crimes being committed. Hopefully the protesters will remain safe tonight. I am curious as to how our congregations will respond to the hate crimes increasing across the country. Will this finally be the point when the ELCA repents, laments and prospers? How many of our congregations are being used for the broken and healing? There is not a more appropriate time than now to be acting as people who practice the gospel.

Do we matter to you yet?


#ReclaimMissionary