By Paul Koch

I often joke around with some of my colleagues that the reason I default to the historic liturgy of the church along with an established lectionary system is that I’m lazy. I don’t want to try and figure out some sort of creative thematic series, so I just open up the book and follow the next lesson that is prescribed. I don’t have the confidence to write out my own confession or proper preface nor the time to do so, so I just use what has been used since long before I was ordained into the ministry.

By Paul Koch

At night I read to my son when he gets into bed. We just finished reading The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. If you’re unfamiliar with the basic story line, the four Pevensie children enter into a magical land called Narnia through the back of a large wardrobe in a spare room. Now, the land they find there is locked in a perpetual winter caused by an evil witch. When one of the children says that winter isn’t all bad because you can play in the snow and of course there is Christmas, they learn to their horror that there is no Christmas in Narnia. The witch’s power makes it always winter but never Christmas.

By Paul Koch

“And he who was seated on the throne said, ‘Behold, I am making all things new.’”

Those words are incredible! They are the words spoken by our crucified and risen Lord, words that speak to the result of his work. The result of his being born in that little town of Bethlehem. The result of driving out demons and healing the sick. The result of living faithfully under the Law of God, the result of cleansing the temple and teaching without hesitation. The result of the whipping and beating, the humiliation and the death on the cross. The result of the rest in the tomb and the resurrection on the third day. The result of his ascension to the right hand of the Father and the promise of his glorious return. “Behold I am making all things new.”

By Paul Koch

“The one who conquers will have this heritage, and I will be his God and he will be my son.” Rev. 21:7

A bunch of awkward looking pastors stand around decked out in their white robes and red stoles. They’re talking to each other using those shallow and empty pleasantries of untrusting professionals. Nothing substantive is discussed, nothing really funny is being said (though there is still that polite laughter you get when coworkers mingle), and all in all, everyone is most likely thinking about what the rest of their day will be like after the reason for their coming together is completed.

By Paul Koch

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me…” Seldom does one go to the funeral of a brother or sister in Christ where these words are not spoken. And rightly so, for Psalm 23 is a powerful Word of God and it has sunk deep into the psyche of his people. The language of that Psalm, especially in the old King James translation is the go to passage from the Word of God for obituaries and those little cards at the mortuary. It may not be your favorite Psalm, but there is no denying that for most of you this is the Psalm that you’ve come in contact with more than any other.

By Paul Koch

St. Stephen was a man of unshakable resolve and courage. And early in his ministry he stood and proclaimed the Word of God to a group of, well, let’s call them hostile listeners. In fact, we are told that the crowd grew so angry with what he preached that they ground their teeth and then tried stopping their ears. When they couldn’t stand it anymore they rushed at him, seized him, drug him out of the city, and began to stone him. As they cast their stones they took off their outer garments to better do their damage. They laid those garments at the feet of a young man named Saul.

By Paul Koch

You may not always see them; you may not be aware of how difficult it is for them to even sit in a church pew on a Sunday morning, but I guarantee you they are there. Every time I stand before the congregation to proclaim the Word as I look out and see the faces staring back at me, I find them sitting there looking for an excuse to leave. I see those who have in some profound way been wounded by the church. To be honest, it took me a long time to see them. To acknowledge them meant that I had to confess certain things about the church I loved, which I didn’t want to confess. To really see them meant things would get messy and uncomfortable.

By Paul Koch

We find the disciples gathered together on that first Sunday since the authorities had crucified their Lord. They have the doors locked tight, fearful of every odd sound outside and strange creak of the floorboards. They didn’t know if the angry mob that rallied their support behind the chief priest and scribes was still on the war path. They didn’t know if perhaps they too would face the horrors of crucifixion for simply being associated with Jesus of Nazareth. Some nervously pace back and forth, some sit quietly in the corner, unsure of what to do next, no one really says much.