Changing Our Minds

The Rev. Kathi Johnson

Lectionary 26, Year A – 1 October 2017

Text: Matthew 21:23-32

Our Redeemer Lutheran Church, Grand Prairie, Texas

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Today, Jesus tells us a Tale of a Father With Two Sons. The Father has a vineyard, and he needs some work done. He asks one son to go work, but that son refuses to his face. So the dad asks his other son to go work in the vineyard. That son agrees to do the work.

There’s some backstory missing for us, the listener. We don’t know why the first son changes his mind and goes to work in the vineyard. We don’t know why the second son changes his mind and doesn’t work in the vineyard at all. All we learn is that one son does what the father wants, and the other son doesn’t, in both cases because the sons each change their minds. 

This story is a about a question of will. The father’s will – his desire – is for some work to get done in his vineyard. His sons both clearly know what his will is – but only one of them follows through, and we’re left wondering how the dad dealt with both his sons. What words of thanks did he give to the one who did the work? What words of anger did he have for the son who blew him off?

Once, many years ago, I made plans with a friend to go to a restaurant for dinner. I’ll call the restaurant Rob’s BBQ. Early in the day before we were supposed to meet, while I was at my college job, I changed my mind. I called my friend, and I canceled our plans. I don’t remember what my reasoning was – I do remember that my friend was rightfully angry with me for canceling, especially without a good reason.

After we got off the phone, I felt terribly guilty. I knew we would get past it eventually, but I felt badly for causing this rift between us. I stood by the phone and reflected on the conversation and my guilt. I was standing by the window, looking out, toward the UT Stadium, and from that vantage point, I could see the planes they flew over the stadium – the planes that carry the advertising behind them. The planes would circle over the stadium, come toward where I was, and then return to the stadium. Around and around.

As I stood there, by that window, I took a second to read the banner behind one of the planes that afternoon, and – I kid you not – it had a directive on it: “EAT AT ROB’S BBQ!”

I laughed out loud, took it as a sign in the heavens, quite literally, and called my friend. At first, she was suspicious of my sudden change of heart. But she relented and forgave me, and we went to have a delicious BBQ dinner. Most importantly, the rift in our friendship was mended.

There’ve certainly been other times in my life when I’ve changed my mind and things haven’t worked out so well. You probably have those times, too – can you remember any of them?

"Thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven."

Whenever we pray the Lord’s Prayer, we say to God: “Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven…” and Luther said that when we pray this, we’re asking for God’s will to “come about in and among us.” And that’s the really tricky part, because maybe I want for God’s will to be done in someone else’s life – maybe someone I think could use some of God’s will in their life. 

Then God tries to accomplish something in my own life, and I resist. God’s will is too difficult. God’s will is too challenging. God’s will leads me to try things that make me uncomfortable or that I really don’t want to do. And so I change my mind from “Thy will be done,” to “Never mind, God! Really. I know best.”

When I do that – when I act like I know better than God - a rift between me and God opens up faster than anything. 

That rift is called “sin,” and I sin daily. I sin daily in thought, word, and deed by what I have done and what I have left undone. Do those words sound familiar? From where?

Right – these are from our corporate prayer of confession. If we say them with intention, then as we pray these words, we think about the times we’ve denied God’s will, and we think about the people we haven’t loved as much as we love ourselves. 

I sin daily, even though I know that God’s will for me is to love God with my whole heart, and to love my neighbor as myself. This prayer of confession is like a re-set button, in a way. It’s like that plane that gave me that directive to go eat BBQ, except this banner might read: “Love God with your whole heart, and love your neighbor as yourself.”

And maybe that banner would be followed by another, reading: “By grace you have been saved. May Christ live in your hearts by faith.” 

And then, while we’re imagining planes with banners behind them, maybe a third one could come behind, saying, “Go and put your faith and love into action!”

We don’t do God’s will to earn our way into heaven, yet we also read in Scripture again and again that seeking God’s will and doing God’s will are important parts of our lives as Christians. And, for all of the modern-day questioning and proclaiming about what is God’s will (and what isn’t) – this I know to be true: God’s will is what God commands, and Jesus says that the greatest two commandments are to love God with our hearts, minds, and souls, and to love our neighbors as ourselves.

So when we come to church and say the confession and receive God’s forgiveness, these are not merely words on a page or in the air. Sometimes I have people who aren’t familiar with liturgy ask why we say these same things every Sunday. “Don’t the words lose meaning?” they ask. 

Well, maybe so. But they don’t have to. These words of confession and forgiveness are meant to be emblazoned on our hearts, our minds, and our souls. We don’t always love God or love our neighbor, even though we know this is God’s will for us. 

But, even as the difficult words of confession sink into our spirits, we then hear the next words: that we are saved by God’s grace, and we are given strength by Almighty God to have power through the Holy Spirit, so that Christ may live in our hearts by faith. 

And when we change our minds – and hearts and souls – away from God’s will, God is always calling us back, so that the rift between us can be mended. 

Let us close with words of prayer from our Hymn of the Day, that we will sing next:

“Give new strength to our believing, Give us faith to live your word.”

Amen.

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When Do We See Jesus In Our Midst?

The Rev. Kathi Johnson

A Lectionary 23 – 10 September 2017

Text: Matthew 18:15-20

Our Redeemer Lutheran Church, Grand Prairie, Texas

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Jesus said to those who were following him:

If someone in your community sins against you, don’t blab about it to everyone around you. Go and talk with that person directly. If the person listens to your concerns - great. Your relationship with them is reconciled.

But if the person ignores you, do this: take a couple of people with you the next time you go to them, that way you’ll have others who can see and hear the conversation. Maybe the person will continue to ignore you. If that happens, talk with the larger community so they can address the issue with the person. Throughout all these conversations, the concern should be for reconciliation.

Realize that the person might still refuse to listen to your concerns, even after all this, and if that’s the case, your relationship with them may seem like it’s been wounded beyond healing.

But look - reconciliation matters, in heaven as on earth, and there is tremendous power in forgiveness between people. And when you’re face-to-face with someone with whom you’ve had a disagreement – even when you’re in the thick of trying to work that out – I am there with you.

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This week and next, there is a thread of forgiveness and reconciliation running through our gospel texts. In our church year, we’re more than halfway through what we sometimes call the “Green Season” – the season that includes many teachings by Jesus. These teachings have been put together into this season so that we can learn from Jesus, and – hopefully – grow in our calling to live as his disciples.

Today’s teaching from Matthew 18 could just as well be called “Conflict Management 101,” and it goes against what feels most comfortable for us. After all, when someone has hurt us in some way, the easiest thing in the world is not to go and talk with that person about how much we’re hurting. The easiest thing in the world is to go and talk with someone else about how much we’re hurting, avoiding the topic altogether with the person who has hurt us.

Of course, when we do this, it brings no reconciliation with the person who has wronged us. Often, it has the side effect of entangling someone else into what began as a simple conflict between two people. How many times have you seen this happen, whether in a church or in your family or between friends? What starts out as an issue between two people can turn into a tangled mess of conflicted relationships.

Jesus’ teaching here is also counter-cultural. Our culture encourages indirect communication in our personal conflicts – like when we fill out an anonymous comment card with nothing but complaints. We now also live in a world that goes online to grumble about other people. Yet what Jesus is trying to get us to see is that when we are hurt, direct communication with the one who has caused offense is normally the best course of action.

The heart of this teaching is reconciliation, and Jesus is trying to help us see a pathway through our pain to reconciliation. Yet even as he teaches us, Jesus recognizes an important reality: that sometimes the person who has hurt us will ignore us, even when we are trying to make amends. Sometimes, we are not listened to, and this makes the pain of the broken relationship last even longer because being ignored doesn’t feel good at all.

When I was a little kid – maybe six years old – my mom and I were staying with my grandparents in their RV. I was apparently going through a phase where I would ignore my mother and the other adults in my life. So, there we were, the four of us in this small space, and I chose that time and place to ignore my mom.

So, Mom cooked up a little plan. She asked my grandparents to join her in an evening of ignoring me. I remember they were sitting at the table, the three of them, and I came up to say something, and they ignored me, just like I wasn’t even there. It was awful. And I learned a powerful lesson that evening: ignoring others causes pain.

As I said, Jesus acknowledges that sometimes, in our attempts to be reconciled to someone, they are going to ignore us. But, he says to keep trying. Grab some trusted friends or others in the community – people that you know are trustworthy – and see if they can help you communicate with this person. All attempts at reconciliation might fail – and sometimes letting go of unhealthy relationships is the best way forward - but Jesus here is underscoring the importance of the work that we put into our relationships with others.

With today’s teaching about reconciliation, there are certainly lessons to be learned all around – as the one who has been wronged and also as the one who has hurt someone. When we’ve been hurt ourselves, direct communication with the one who has hurt us is best, if not easiest. Likewise, when we’ve hurt someone else, listening to them – not ignoring them – but listening to them is best, if not easiest.

Now, I moved right past a very important part of Jesus’ teaching. I moved right past the part in verse 15 when Jesus says that sometimes, our attempts at reconciliation actually do work. Sometimes, forgiveness between people is exactly what happens, and when forgiveness occurs, both people benefit. Both people benefit when forgiveness is bound to our relationships, and both people benefit when the hurt of sin is loosed – or let go - from our relationships.

In the very last verse of today’s gospel text, Jesus says, “…where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” This verse reminds us that Jesus is present with us in all things, even in the sometimes uncomfortable work of being in relationship with others. This verse is commonly used to describe Christian gatherings: And that’s a nice thought, the idea of Jesus gathering with us in our Bible studies or in our service projects like we’ll have after worship here at Our Redeemer today.

But what about in the context that Jesus puts it in here? What about Jesus being with us when we need to have these difficult, uncomfortable conversations with others? In my office, next to my phone, I keep this set of prayer beads for times when I have to make a difficult phone call. The cross reminds me that in every conversation I have with people, whether it’s a challenging conversation or not, Jesus is there, with me.

Can we imagine that? Do we see Jesus in our midst when we are telling someone else, “You know, this thing you did really hurt me…” Do we see Jesus in our midst when we have someone saying those words to us? And, even when we are hurt, can we imagine Jesus giving us the heart and the will to be reconciled with someone?

Right there, even in those difficult moments, is where Jesus promises us he will be. Find comfort in his presence with you. Find strength, if that is what you need. Know that God’s love has found you in God’s forgiveness, and that Jesus abides with you always. Amen.

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Do We Have the Schedule to be Merciful?

The Rev. Kathi Johnson

20 August 2017

Text: Matthew 15:21-28

Our Redeemer Lutheran Church, Grand Prairie, Texas

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This story is not my favorite portrayal of Jesus. I struggle with it because of Jesus’ attitude toward this Canaanite woman, at least initially. She is shouting at Jesus and his disciples, the text says. She is shouting – not being a quiet, submissive woman, as women were expected to be. Her yelling shows her desperation on behalf of her daughter, and her determination in getting Jesus to help. She’s shouting the ancient shout of God’s people: “Have mercy on me, Lord!”

The disciples and Jesus aren’t having it, and that’s what makes me uneasy in this story. Can they not see the woman’s worry? Can they not hear her shouts as desperate cries for help? Why do they have to be so…mean? Jesus doesn’t even answer her right away, and then the disciples want her sent away. Where’s the love? Where’s the mercy?

The woman keeps at it. “Lord, help me,” she says, now at the feet of Jesus. It’s another ancient plea – whispered on sickbeds and battlefields and in classrooms: “Lord, help me.”

So this is Jesus’ opportunity to help, but instead he answers her plea with a rebuttal: “It’s not fair,” he says, “to take the children’s food and give it to the dogs.” Here, at least, there is no love, there is no mercy.

Nevertheless, she persists. She persists out of her desperation and we begin to see her great faith emerge. She knows Jesus can help her, so she presses on: “Lord, even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the table.”

She is an incarnational (in-the-flesh) reminder to Jesus that God has enough mercy to go around.

And as so often happens in Scripture, there’s a sudden shift. Jesus sees the woman’s humanity and her faith, and her daughter is healed. Finally – there is love, and there is mercy.

For reasons that still escape me, when I began middle school in sixth grade, I was placed into advanced everything for my classes – including math. Now, I’m a pretty smart person, but there’s no way I needed to be in advanced math class, even in sixth grade.

I began struggling pretty early in the year. Our teacher – I’ll call her Mrs. L – was short and stout and loud. She was not a nurturer. She was more like some sort of middle school mathematics drill sergeant. She would give us these packets of worksheets – one each week – and it was up to us to keep up with the work, on our own. She’d check our packets from time to time, but if you fell behind, you really fell behind.

So – I fell really behind. And when progress reports came out – this was in the age when paper progress reports were given to students to take home to parents – I was failing math. Big time failing. It was a terrible feeling – so terrible that I made myself sick with worry about what my mom would say and do.

One evening, I realized I couldn’t take it anymore. I took my progress report into my mom, crying. She wasn’t mad; she was disappointed. She was also determined that we would meet with Mrs. L and figure out a way forward. I was mortified. There was no way Mrs. L would do anything to help me, I figured. She was a short, stout, mathematics drill sergeant, remember?

So, in we went, to meet with Mrs. L. I don’t remember the conversation much. I do remember that Mrs. L gave me time to catch up on my work, even letting me come in to her classroom so I could ask questions if I needed to outside of class. She had mercy on me.

To ask for mercy is a humbling experience, and I think that’s part of my discomfort with watching the scene play out between the Canaanite woman and Jesus. In this story, the woman is already starting from a humble place. As a Canaanite woman, she’s an outsider – she is The Other - and as a woman, she’s “just a humble woman.” Her shouts for mercy take her humility to an even lower place – in this story, we watch her descend from a humble outsider to a humble outsider supplicant. She is someone on the outside – she is An Other - who needs help.

And mercy isn’t always easily given, whether it’s by a middle school teacher or a disciple of Jesus or Jesus himself. Mercy sometimes takes some time and conversation. Maybe that’s partly why our world is so short of mercy – because it takes time and conversation. Do we have the schedule to be merciful? Do we have the time or the energy?

And yet, what the world needs now is mercy. Last weekend at our WELCA retreat, I asked the ladies what parts of our worship services are the most meaningful to each of them. Many answered with Communion, or the prayers, or the hymns. One person quietly answered, the “Kyrie” – the part of the service where, at certain times of year, we sing “Lord, have mercy” – the same words that the Canaanite woman shouted at Jesus.

What the world needs now is mercy, and we not only need it from one another, but from God. It is a good practice for us to say (or sing, or shout) the words asking God for mercy because it helps us remember not only that God is merciful, but that we are in need of mercy from God.

At times it seems as though God’s mercy will be stretched too thin by the world’s need. Every day, the news brings more need to the table. As people of faith, how do we respond? One response is a whisper - or a shout - of “Lord, have mercy!”

But mercy is also seen in how we live out the love of God. Just a few days after white supremacists marched through the University of Virginia bearing torches, the Charlottesville community took the campus back over with a candlelight vigil. There is still plenty of work to do in dismantling racism in our country, and it will take time, and conversation, and it is work that can only be done with love…and mercy.

There have been massive mudslides in Sierra Leone that have killed hundreds of people. This nation which has just begun to recover from the ebola outbreak has been devastated yet again. Our own Northern Texas-Northern Louisiana Synod has already sent funds to Lutherans there to help this nation recover. Recovery is – and it will be - the work of love…and mercy.

Mercy isn’t stylish, and it won’t get us elected to public office, but as followers of a merciful Savior, we are also called to be merciful. Like so many other things, mercy begins in our hearts. Mercy begins with seeing the person in front of us, and in taking the time to see their humanity.

And through God’s steadfast love for us, God’s mercies are new every morning. So there is always enough mercy to go around.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

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Listening for the Voice of Our Shepherd

Charlie and Abby

The Rev. Kathi Johnson

Easter 4, Year C – April 17, 2016

Text: John 10:22-30

Our Redeemer Lutheran Church, Grand Prairie, Texas

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Today’s encounter at the end of John 10, between the people and Jesus, takes place right after Jesus has told them that he is the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep. The Good Shepherd calls his sheep by name. The Good Shepherd protects his sheep, and leads them, giving them safety so that they may find pasture. The Good Shepherd lays down his life for his sheep. 

After Jesus proclaims these things about himself, some who are listening to him start to argue. Some think that Jesus has lost it – that he’s out of his mind. Others point to the healing work of Jesus as proof that he hasn’t lost his mind at all – quite the opposite, they say – his healing works instead show us that we should be listening to him.

So in this time of contention, they ask Jesus to explain things plainly to them. “Are you the Messiah? Tell us,” they say. Jesus’ response seems brusque to us: “I have told you,” he says, “but you don’t believe me.” You can almost hear the frustration in his response.

And you might see why Jesus is a little frustrated with their question. In addition to all the signs (miracles) that Jesus has done up to now, in identifying himself as the Good Shepherd, he’s identifying himself as the Messiah – the Anointed One – for whom the people of God have been waiting. The image of the Messiah as a shepherd is one that would’ve been quite familiar to these Jews. So, in this part of their conversation, Jesus now goes back to the Good Shepherd image. He says, “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. …No one will snatch them out of my hand.” 

Throughout this whole chapter, for Jesus, the emphasis is on the relationship that the sheep have with their shepherd. The sheep know their shepherd’s voice, and the shepherd knows them each by name. The sheep trust their shepherd to keep them safe and fed, and the shepherd knows what they need. There is a relationship between the sheep and the shepherd.

I’ve never owned a sheep. We do have two dogs, though, and whenever I read these words of Jesus in John, I always think about relationships between dogs and their owners. Our old dog, Max, had been with me since he was seven weeks old. He knew my voice, and I knew what his different noises meant, too. He wasn’t the best-trained dog in the world, but he knew a few commands: for example, if I told him I needed to “dry off puppy paws,” he would sit and hold up one paw. Every command had a purpose, whether to keep him safe or to make something easier.

Now that we have our two current dogs, who’ve come to us as adults and only about six months ago, I’m remembering all the years of relationship-building that I did with Max in order for him to know my voice and obey me. Now, we’re working with Abby and Charlie on some of the most basic commands, and sometimes it feels like this work never ends. We do this work not only for their own safety, but, as we learned recently, the safety of the wildlife in our yard. These two dogs know our voices, I think, but the relationship is still building, and so they don’t always follow when we need them to. 

My mom, when preaching on today’s text from John about 20 years ago, asked the question, “What image of Christ do we present to the world?” Today’s gospel lesson invites us to present an image of Christ as the Good Shepherd – loving and caring for his sheep even to the point of laying down his life. The Good Shepherd lives in relationship with his sheep – they know him and he knows them.

I also wonder, though, what image of Christ’s followers people have. When people look at the followers of Christ, do they see love or hatred? Do they see care or neglect? Can people even tell that we are listening for our Good Shepherd’s voice? 

Which then leads me to ask: Are Christ’s followers even listening for our Good Shepherd’s voice? 

It can be such a challenge to hear the voice of the Shepherd over the clamor of the world -  to hear it over all the voices shouting fear at us, or shouting hatred at us. How can we possibly hear the voice of our Shepherd if all we listen to are the voices telling us that if we aren’t afraid, or if we aren’t driven by hatred, we must be doing something wrong? 

The world looks to Christ’s followers to see an image of Christ himself. The world listens to what Christ’s followers are saying, in order to hear the voice of the Shepherd. I wonder if our relationships with Christ the Shepherd are such that our actions and our words show Christ to be caring – not only for the sheep in the fold, but caring for all? 

In our baptisms, we are marked with the cross of Christ forever – no one can snatch us from the loving hands of Jesus, our Shepherd. God’s love for us does not depend upon us or how we feel. God’s love for us depends upon God and God’s faithfulness to us. However, God’s love for other people doesn’t depend on our love for them. Jesus the Good Shepherd loves all those sheep out there, in spite of how we all treat each other. 

But…

To step away from sheep and shepherds for a minute…Jesus has given to us these two great commands: to love God, and to love our neighbor. We, who are so loved by God, are called to love our neighbors, too. Our relationships with God are marked with the cross of Christ – but our relationships with everyone should also be marked with that same cross.

My fellow sheep, let us listen for the voice of our loving Shepherd, let us hear it above every other voice that begs for attention. And then, let us be the ones who show and tell the love of Jesus, our Good Shepherd. 

Amen.

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Oh Blest Communion, Fellowship Divine

7 September 2014 - Lectionary 23, Year A

Our Redeemer Lutheran Church, Grand Prairie, Texas

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Grace and peace be with you, from God our Father, and the Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen.

It seems like we’ve grown accustomed to watching conflicts play out, publicly, right in front of us, and it is easier to complain publicly now than ever before in human history. If a celebrity has a fall from grace, no matter how big or small, we see it. If a politician says one wrong word or does one wrong thing, we see it. And not only do we see these things, we read about them and talk about them.

If you don’t believe me, then just spend some time online, perusing Yahoo! or any of the news outlets, or when you’re waiting in the checkout line at the grocery store, take a look at the magazines by the register. All over the front pages are complaints and observations about who it is that has messed up this week.

As these articles, editorials, and “news stories” are being put together, I’m not sure that the writers and editors and news directors are very concerned with preserving the honor of the people in the stories. I’m not sure that they are very concerned with the relationships in the lives of these celebrities or politicians, either. In fact, I’d venture a guess that many of them are more concerned with selling magazines or newspapers and getting people to look at their websites.

Yet, it is preservation of honor and concern for relationships that Jesus is addressing in today’s gospel lesson: “If a brother or sister sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If he or she listens to you, you have regained that one.” He then goes on to talk about what to try if the person at fault doesn’t listen – try taking a smaller group along to talk with them, and then, failing that, involve a bigger group (in this case, the church community).

His concern is for the maintenance of the relationship – if at all possible – and for the preservation of the other person’s honor (even though they have sinned). It might be tempting to haul out all their dirty laundry and wave it around for everyone to see – but when we do, it is so damaging to relationships and reputations.

Luther addresses all of this, too. In this explanation to the 8^th commandment, Luther gives us the theological basis for treating our neighbor with love and respect – that we “fear and love God” and being mindful of how we talk about others – or refuse to talk about others - is one piece of our fearing and loving God.

The 8^th commandment by itself sounds so simple: “You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor” – sounds to me like as long as I don’t lie about someone else, I’m covered! Except what Luther does is to expand our thinking about this commandment so that not only are we not to lie about our neighbors, but we are to “come to their defense, speak well of them, and interpret everything they do in the best possible light.”

Luther got it: what we think about others deeply affects our relationships with them, and what we say about others affects their honor. Paul got it too: the commandments, he says, “are summed up in this word, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”[1]

Now, maybe all of this is well and good to talk about in regards to church, or in our families, or among our close friendships. But what would the world look like if followers of Christ consistently applied themselves to preserving the honor of the other? And if we did that not because of what we might gain from it, but because we see in the other one who was created by God and who is loved by God?

We as a society are very quick to see the sin in another person – and some are very quick to point that sin out. And sometimes, we must – for the love of others – call sin what it is. But this takes us back to Jesus’ teaching in our gospel lesson for today – that, even when sin is present and hurtful, there is still a loving way to address sinfulness. When we address sinfulness in ways that preserve honor, it is good for the sinner and it is good for the one who has been sinned against, but it also preserves the honor of the entire community.

This teaching, like Jesus’ other teachings, shows us the character of the God whom we love and serve. What kind of God is it who calls us to live in community with one another? It is a God who lives in community with us. The gospel of Matthew itself is bookended with this idea of God being with us – from its beginning when Jesus is called “Immanuel” (meaning “God with us”) to its ending, when Jesus promises his disciples that he will be with them, to the end of the age.

Here, in the middle of Matthew, we find yet another promise of God’s dwelling with us – “where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” And so, our relationships with one another are not only that – they are not only horizontal relationships. Our relationships with each other have God in them, as well. All the more reason to love our neighbors as ourselves, because in so doing, we also are loving God.

Over and over again in Scripture, we are told to love each other, so much so that it must be important. “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love... Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another...if we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us.”[2]

In how we think of others, in how we speak of others, in all we do, may God’s love be perfected in us, for Jesus’ sake. Amen.

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[1] Romans 13:9

[2] 1 John 4

Visiting some whom I've never met

I'm on a pilgrimage of sorts.

I'm traveling to see friends in Iowa this week, and while planning my trip, I happened to notice that Wichita, Kansas is about halfway up. I've always heard my maternal grandmother talk about Wichita, without giving it much thought. I began digging through some of our family history, though, and realized how steeped my own family is in this area of Kansas.

One relative I never met but with whom I've always felt a connection is my great-grandmother, Sarah. She died in the 1950's and is buried next to her husband in Hutchinson, Kansas. I've heard so much about her throughout my life, both from my mom and my grandmother. I now have a couple of her books - treasures made all the more precious by her handwritten notes found inside.

Imagine my excitement, then, to discover that I could easily stop in Wichita on my way to Iowa, and fit in some time to go see the graves of my great-grandparents - make a pilgrimage to honor them and their memories.

After I arrived at my hotel today, exhausted from driving, I hunkered down with pages of family history compiled by other relatives. I discovered two other cemeteries to visit in the area, each of which has a set of my great-great-grandparents (Sarah's parents and her husband's parents).

Finding this information was unexpected - and exciting - and it threw a kink into the works, because now I feel an obligation to see all of these folks. Kind of like when you drive through someplace and feel obligated to meet your long-lost whomever for lunch? Yeah...that's how I feel.

Except these aren't long-lost whomevers - they are my forebears. These are the ones who - quite literally - gave me life. Down through the centuries, from the British Isles and Germany, came these pioneers who settled in Kansas to make lives for themselves. In doing so, they passed on the blessing of life to my grandmother, to my mother, to me.

Tomorrow, I'm stopping to see the graves of one set of great-great-grandparents - more people I never knew, but who are a part of me somehow. I'm excited, but if I'm honest, I'm also a bit nervous. These are some of the ones who made me who I am, through vast generational influences. And while I won't be meeting them face-to-face, I'll be as close to meeting them as I ever have been. (What would my Lutheran-turned-Baptist great-great-grandfather say about his great-great-granddaughter, the Lutheran pastor, I wonder?)

Tomorrow, I'll visit the graves of some whom I never met. And like Jacob, I'll leave a stone there, to honor them and their lives. I'll leave a stone to remember the hopes which led them here - the hopes they have passed on to me, too, somehow.