Diane Roth

We go to church to worship, not just to be polite.

The word missionary makes me cringe a little. But I was one, and it taught me a lot.

We miss a lot when we don't invite children's presence and participation in worship.

Some people say they don’t identify as Christian because of what they see, or don’t see, in the church.

There is a chasm between Peter and Jesus that cannot be glossed over.

When Jesus walks into the locked room, the first thing he offers is peace.

On Easter Sunday, we want to feel triumphant. Instead we get Mark 16.

Maybe Advent is really a wild season, full of things we cannot control.

How can we live for the glory of God alone?

Matthew is not my favorite Gospel. But where would we be without it?

I keep thinking that being effective means big things like starting new organizations. But it's also about relationships.

Earlier this summer we held Vacation Bible School at our church. We had a morning program mostly for the children at our preschool, a few of their older sisters and brothers, and a few of our congregation's children as well. But this year, we added something new.

How do you measure what is happening in a congregation? I have been here for about a year now. I was reminded of this when the "check engine" went on in my elderly car, as that is what happened when I first drove into town a year ago.

Recently a grandmother told me how much her fourth grade granddaughter already loves a new three-year-old in our congregation. Their family just started visiting, and when the children, all ages, come together for to play and draw and wonder about the scripture readings, the little girl sings her own song about how much she loves Jesus. They are making a connection, beginning a relationship, not based on being in the same grade, but based on being in the same body of Christ.

My first congregation was a three-point parish in rural South Dakota. Three points meant that there were three churches. Two of them were in tiny towns, and one of them was out in the country. I lived in one of those tiny towns, in a large parsonage across from the church.

I held two small first communion classes for a few students from the church. It had been a while since I organized a class like this, so I felt a little rusty. The book that I used to use (and that I loved) had gone out of print. I cobbled together some resources and we talked about baptism and sacraments and words along with things that you can touch. We drew pictures and watched a scene from the movie Holes, and read a couple of stories about meals in the Bible. We talked a little bit about the Passover, and we ended up talking about trusting God, that God comes to us in this meal. It was not everything, but it was something.

I had a wedding earlier this month. It was my first wedding here, in my new-ish call. The couple at whose wedding I officiated are fairly new members of the congregation. She came and visited not long after I started. A little later, he visited as well. I have some affection for the first few people who showed up the same hot summer that I did.

On Sunday, we hear the story from John 21 of Jesus and Peter on the beach. Jesus asks Peter three times, "Do you love me?" and three times Peter answers, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you." Then Jesus tells him, "Feed my sheep." We also hear about how Saul became the apostle Paul, on the road to Damascus. Here he was, on the way to persecute the followers of the Way, and out of the blue, Jesus speaks to him, too: "Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?" There he is struck blind, and when he sees again, he has a new calling as a follower of Jesus and a missionary to the gentiles. On one Sunday, we hear stories of two of the main characters from the New Testament. But I can't help being drawn to Ananias.

It is probably in my top five favorite scripture passages in the whole Bible. We are reading it this Sunday, the fourth Sunday in Lent. It comes up every three years. It is from 2 Corinthians. "So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!"

For the last six weeks I wore an orthotic boot on my left foot. I fractured a small bone in my ankle while walking my dog one sunny morning in January. I wasn't doing anything exciting or high-risk. I just stumbled and rolled the foot enough to get a fracture instead of a sprain. I have never broken a foot, ankle, or leg before, so I was unaccustomed to the extra weight of the boot.