The late comedian Rodney Dangerfield was famous for quipping, “I get no respect.” That line showed up in some way, shape, or form in most of the films he was famous for. Dangerfield typically played the role of bumbling but loveable idiot, who somehow managed to come out on top. But even though he came out on top, he still “got no respect.”

Born on the 10th of November.

Loved by some. Hated by others. Misunderstood by still more.

Surrounded by history and legend, some of it true and some of questionable validity. With a reputation for enjoying a few beers and spouting off some rather harsh insults, even sprinkling in some profanity to the conversation from time to time. 

Loud and a bit brash. Regularly accused of being obnoxious or aggressive, and of using unconventional means to accomplish the mission. Sleep deprived and often experiencing digestive issues thanks to a high carb diet.

Marrying someone off limits. At times, demonstrating absolute disdain for certain kinds of authorities.

Hero or terror, it depends which side of the disagreement you find yourself on. Unafraid of throwing a punch and never holding back. You really wouldn’t want to be on the opposing side, for then the excrement would soon start flying your way.

You know the scene. It is the end of the date. Boy and girl, face to face, nervously rocking back and forth, inching closer, fumbling about, both wanting to, but neither one quite bold enough to make the final move for the first kiss. Someone needs to be courageous and pucker up or it is not gonna’ happen. And if they both start inching backwards, playing coy, expecting the other person to make the move, the likelihood of a first kiss, shrinks away even faster.

By Ross Engel

I always wanted to be an astronaut. My childhood bedroom was decorated with space memorabilia. As a teenager, I had a full size wall mural in my bedroom of the Space Shuttle Columbia orbiting the earth. I collected shuttle mission patches, built model rockets, and stared at the stars. I watched “The Right Stuff,” “Return of the Jedi,” and “Space Camp” every chance I got, and spent many a night dreaming about one day journeying into the great unknown. There was a reason why my Dad called me his little “space cadet.”

By Ross Engel

A wise and experienced pastor once told me, “Preaching the Law of God to a Congregation is like throwing a brick into a pack of dogs. The dog that yelps is the one that got hit with the brick.” Now, before I go any further, I want to make a few things perfectly clear. I am not advocating that anyone tests this theory by throwing bricks into packs of dogs, for that would be inhumane and cruel, nor am I advocating that pastors view their congregations like a pack of wild dogs, for that would be degrading and would not profit anyone. Scripture speaks of the people of God as beloved sheep, cared for by the Good Shepherd and served by under-shepherds. Personally, I have always appreciated the imagery of the congregation as a flock of sheep who are cared for by a sheepdog, for both sheep and sheepdog find their rest under the Good Shepherd.

By Ross Engel

Recently I watched the 2006 Kevin Costner/Ashton Kutcher movie, “The Guardian.” The film centers on the training of the U.S. Coast Guard’s elite rescue swimmers. Kevin Costner is the seasoned veteran—a legend with more rescues than one can keep track of—and Ashton Kutcher is the talented yet cocky recruit who yearns to make a name for himself. Both men are running from tragedies and brokenness and the movie is dripping with themes of self-sacrifice and coping with loss. There is appreciable depth to this movie.

By Ross Engel

“But now, this is what the Lord says— He who created you, Jacob, He who formed you, Israel: “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.”

In one of his hit songs, the late artist, actor, poet, and musician Tupac Shakur (whose work is certainly not appropriate for young ears) asked the question, “Is it a crime to fight for what is mine?”

By Ross Engel

When tragedy strikes, the thing to do these days is to start a hash tag campaign. It is short, easy to do, and takes no effort or action on the part of the individual. By posting with the right hash tag, everyone else who is using the same hash tag knows that you stand in solidarity with them. Some events even come with their own background pictures that you can use to change your social media profile picture to really show your support. One of the best things about a hash tag campaign is that the folks that don’t know about it or don’t use the hash tag, are an opportunity for the hash tag user to tout some moral superiority, even if they aren’t actually doing what has been hash tagged. Seriously, how many people actually are praying for whatever it is they’ve hash tagged?

By Ross Engel

This is an exciting week in the lives of the future pastors of the LCMS. Both of our synod’s seminaries hosted their annual call and vicarage placement services. These are anxious moments as fourth-year seminarians patiently wait through an evening Vespers service to find out where they will serve for their first Divine Call. Second-year students get to find out where they will be placed for their one year of vicarage (like a pastoral internship). The running joke has always been that calls and vicarage assignments are determined by the throw of a dart at a map of the USA, but I’ve been told that there is much more to the process.

By Ross Engel

The band of brothers reclined at the table. Their conversation was animated and loud. Laughter and smiles, joy in the midst of this Holy night of celebration. The Passover had come and there was much to rejoice in! So many things had happened recently, so there was much to talk about. Their dead friend had been raised. A blind man healed. Demons had been driven out. A parade of palm branches and Hosannas had just been experienced. Yes, there was much to revel in. Curiously enough though, the night’s feast began with their Master washing all their feet like a humble servant. Yes, there was so much to talk about this night.

By Ross Engel

Perched atop the towering, eighty-three foot tall, Redstone-3, Mercury 7 booster rocket, Astronaut Alan B. Shepard had plenty of time to contemplate and pray before his Freedom 7 capsule was launched into the great unknowns of space. The eyes of every American were glued to a TV set to watch this historic event. On Shephard’s shoulders were the combined hopes of a nation. And as he waited for lift-off and becoming the first American in outer space, he uttered a few words that would later become known as, “The Shepard’s Prayer.”