By Paul Koch

I was a Vicar at Peace Lutheran Church in Bremerton Washington 17 years ago. I remember, with astonishing clarity, driving down to church early in the morning and listening to some bewildering news on the radio. An airplane, no, make that two airplanes, had struck buildings in New York. Upon arriving at the church Day School office for morning devotions I found all the teachers and staff huddled around the computer watching the news as it was unfolding. It was a bit sketchy and disjointed as the reports came in but the picture began to develop; this was no accident but an attack.

By Paul Koch

When we are quiet, when we give ourselves moments without distraction or entertainment, when we allow silence to occupy our space, we begin to think about our lives, about our world and our place in it. We begin to realize that there is something wrong, something misplaced or broken about our existence. Maybe for you it begins when you realize how bad your joints ache or how difficult it is to do things that once seemed to do with ease. Or perhaps, in your contemplation you struggle with inner demons, with things no one else can see, with depression and anxiety. Some days are a dark and confusing battle where hope seems to be in short supply, and you can’t seem to get a hold of the reason why. Then again, maybe your quiet moments are consumed with thoughts of guilt and shame. You think of friendships that you’ve lost, of loves that have grown cold. When we enter the quiet we often find that we quickly seek the distractions, the diversion from what is broken within ourselves.

By Paul Koch

Does your church play the game of peek-a-boo Jesus? Is the Lord, through whom all things were made, treated as a hot commodity that is high in demand but short in supply? Does he make small, little appearances throughout the worship service only to be hidden just when you think he’s going to do something grand? Is the Son of God the tease that keeps you coming to church but is never fully given for fear that you might not come back again?

By Hillary Asbury

I love libraries and bookstores.

I love the smell of books, the texture of their paper, and the elegance with which each book stands in its place. I love the organized chaos of full bookshelves. There is something humbling, and yet exhilarating, about being surrounded by so many books, so much knowledge and art. I step into a library and immediately think about how many words are housed under that one roof. I walk into a bookstore and am struck by the millions of stories just waiting to be discovered. There is so much out there, so much information that even if I were to dedicate the rest of my life to reading, I would never be able to read it all, not even a fraction.

By Cindy Koch

What if liturgy isn’t enough? I know that’s the argument that well-meaning, smart theologians will give you. You know how it goes: If the preaching is bad or if the particular pastor’s teaching is less Christ-centered than you’ve understood the Bible to teach, if you at least have the liturgy, you’re safe. If the church is a mess and the people are all over the place with understandings, if you at least have the liturgy, you’ll be OK. The liturgy, a weekly confession of the true faith, built on and sustained by the faithful church for generations upon generations of Christians. A liturgy that preserves the pattern of right confession and pure Gospel proclamation, all bound up in a handy-dandy book, literally at your fingertips every Sunday.

By Paul Koch

We have often romanticized the image of the lone rugged cowboy who doesn’t need anyone else, who can ride into town and save the day and then ride off alone into the sunset when it is all over. But the reality is, no one does much of anything alone. People need each other, we thrive when we are together. Whether we call it a family or a tribe or a fellowship, the gathering together of people who will care for each other and protect each other and challenge each other seems to be part of the human spirit. It is in our friendships and our families that we learn better who we are and find the strength to overcome our weaknesses. It is together that we endure. There is truth in Kipling’s words when he writes the law of the jungle and says, “The strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.”

By Paul Koch

This is the spirit of the Antichrist, which you heard was coming and now is in the world already. 1 John 4:3

According to St. John, the spirit of the Antichrist is already among us. It roams about the world seeking to devour the saints of God. It is cunning and selective in its attacks. It doesn’t have to look evil or dangerous or ugly. In fact, it will most likely feel pleasant, look attractive and even righteous. There seems to be profound truth to Baudelaire’s verse, “The devil’s finest trick is to persuade you that he does not exist.” For then your guard is down, your senses are dulled, and the Antichrist enters the sacred and holy spaces to do his work.

By Jeff Pulse

The Old Testament text for this Sunday, July 22, 2018, the ninth Sunday after Pentecost, is from the book of the prophet Jeremiah. The text is Jeremiah 23:1-6 and contains the very familiar Messianic reference of “The Righteous Branch” and the title, “The Lord is our Righteousness.” However, the pericope begins with a common prophetic condemnation of false and evil shepherds who have been charged to care for the LORD’s sheep. Like Ezekiel 34, the shepherds have neglected the sheep for their own needs. In some cases, they are guilty of abusing the flock causing them to scatter and run away. Thus, the LORD promises that He Himself will gather up the remnants and they will prosper under His shepherding. At that time He will appoint new shepherds—obviously shepherds who are “undershepherds” to Him and properly care and provide for His flock.

By Cindy Koch

Have you followed the footsteps of Jesus? Sometimes I think I can be kind enough, sometimes I think I can love like he did. Every once in a while I have a really great day when the sky looks a little bluer and I’m pretty proud of myself for my gentle tongue and thoughtful actions. But then there is the day when I lose it, I am angry at just about everything. How can I possibly get any better? Is this Jesus stuff not really working for me? Sometimes I think I need to take a good hard look at my walk.

By Paul Koch

Just about 7 years ago I loaded up my family in our old blue minivan with a roof rack carrier loaded to the gills. The moving truck had already hauled all our stuff away and we began a long road trip out to California. It was exciting. When we had moved away from California, I had never imagined that I would live here again. But now we were coming back, back to the west coast, back to the beautiful weather, back even to the city of Ventura where I grew up and barely graduated high school. In fact, I was going back to the very church of my youth, where my former Sunday School teachers would now attend my classes. And from the moment that I accepted the call to be your pastor to the day that I was installed, and even for a few months afterwards, I would hear over and again the line from Mark 6, “A prophet is not without honor, except in his hometown.”

By Bob Hiller

A few weeks back, I was scrolling through Twitter in order to feel good about the world (because why else is anyone on Twitter?) when, lo and behold, I found a tweet I disagreed with! OK, have you picked your jaw up off the keyboard? Good. So, here’s what got me going. A rather popular and provocative author, Rachel Held Evans—who I suppose would be considered a part of the “evangelical left”—sent out this tweet: “We don’t have to cede the Bible to the fundamentalists.” At first, this statement got me all riled up. The arrogance of such a comment was, I thought, rather breathtaking, as though the Bible was a piece of property which we are all trying to control. But then it got me thinking: Who does get the final say over what the Bible says? Fundamentalists? Liberals? The church? My denomination? Who controls the Bible?

By Hillary Asbury

I’ve always been pretty sensitive to violence. There are plenty of films and TV shows that I simply cannot get through without covering my eyes, and sometimes my ears. In fact, just the other night, I was watching a show, opened my eyes a little too soon during a particularly graphic scene, and almost wretched. I’m an artist; I’m very visual, and sometimes I think I can’t watch something like that without experiencing it in my mind. I see it happen (or read it), and I automatically go to that place with the character. I know it’s not real, but I react to it as if it is. I wish I were better at handling it, but I find violence, even if very fake, upsetting.

By Paul Koch

The fact that we gather together here this morning, in a place of worship, a building designed to hear the word and receive the sacraments of our Lord, is not all that uncommon. I’m not saying that it is necessarily a popular thing, at least the way in which our world values its use of time. But most people in our lives here in this great country have some understanding of church: why people go to church, the point of church, that sort of thing. Even if they perhaps don’t want to go, they will usually respect your commitment to go to church on Sunday morning.

By Paul Koch

On September 11th, 2001, I was in the midst of my vicarage assignment at Peace Lutheran Church in Bremerton, Washington. That Tuesday morning and the events that unfolded throughout the coming weeks and months, I don’t think I’ll ever forget. If you’ve never been to Bremerton, it is a beautiful town surrounded by military bases: from the massive naval shipyard to the sub base on the Hood Canal to the underwater warfare facility. When terrorists successfully attacked our country, that whole town went on high alert. Fathers and mothers who were deployed were now going to be going to war. It was chaotic, and people began to search for answers. Perhaps their greatest question was, where is God in all of this? Did He care? Was He still in control? Was this some sort of punishment?