Author: Higher Things

Rev. Gaven Mize

On October 17th I married my best friend. Ashlee Saleeby became Ashlee Mize forever. It was surprisingly easy to make happen. Ashlee and I went to the Register of Deeds, waited about 15 minutes, and left with a piece of paper for the presiding pastor and witnesses to sign and we were done. Not very romantic, is it? And so it is with the state. Still, as I left the plain yellow-colored municipal building with my future bride I couldn’t help but think, “Okay, now we are ready. Now we can start forever.” But, I was wrong. There was still more to do. We had to be joined together at the Altar of God’s own Son to exchange our final vows.

So, we needed a liturgy. It was tedious, but meaningful work, yet still not very romantic. Truth be told, I wasn’t really going for romantic; I was just wanting to marry the woman whom I knew I wanted to married the day I met her. So, I asked a bunch of my friends to help me with the liturgy and it was pretty self-explanatory until it came to the hymn. And that is where the romance came in, but not the romance that we have been forced to swallow in sometimes poorly crafted, yet over-budgeted romantic comedies. This was the romance that captured the rib of Adam.

And so there we were. My beloved Ashlee held one side of the hymn and I held the other and we began to sing.

“O, Jesus Christ! how bright and fair, The state of holy marriage where,
Thy blessing rich is given, What gracious gifts Thou dost bestow,
What streams of blessing ever flow, Down from Thy holy heaven,
When they, True stay, To Thee ever, Leave Thee never, Whose troth plighted,
In one life have been united.” (O, Jesus Christ How Bright and Fair, Paul Gerhardt)

Ashlee, my rib, was a reminder to me of Eve being taken out of the side of Adam. From the side of man came woman, as from the pierced side of Christ flowed His bride, the Church. That church was built on the blood and water that flowed from the riven side of our Savior. Christ, our Savior, would now make two into one, for us to be in the church together, to receive the gifts together, to herald the incarnation and passion together, to die to sin and be risen in our baptisms together. The two would become one flesh.

Perhaps there isn’t much romance in the Nicholas Sparks kind of way in God knocking out Adam and taking His rib to create his wife. And there certainly doesn’t seem to be any romance in God being nailed to a crippled cross and having the Church ripped from His side. In this hymn, Gerhardt reminds us of what romance actually is:

“…Jewel, All hail! Husband’s treasure! House’s pleasure! Crown of honour! On His throne God thinketh on her.”

As my bride and I held the pages of that hymn it struck me: As surely as Christ is reigning over the binding of Ashlee and me into one, so does He watch over His own Bride, the church. And the wonder of all wonders is that we are His own treasure and pleasure. We are His jewel that was polished by His own blood. We are the house where we are fed His Body and Blood for His good pleasure. We, as despicable and dirty as our wedding dress may be, have been washed clean by the very one who binds us to Himself: Jesus, the Christ, our groom.

So, there we stood, my now wife and I, as the shadow of Christ and His bride darkened around us and the reflection of the union of God and man. And then out of nowhere it was my turn to speak: “With this ring I marry you, my worldly goods I give to you, and with my body I honor you.” I spoke those words with the confidence of the one who placed them on my lips, the one who first honored us with His body: crucified, resurrected, and now seated at the right hand of the Father. And the next day as I sat with my wife during the Divine Service and walked up to the Altar to receive His Body and Blood for the forgiveness of our sins with my wife I knew Ashlee and I had been grafted to a greater vine than ourselves, long ago in our baptism. God’s “I do” is still proclaimed from our foreheads. Then the “romance” was clear; we were meant to love each other as we have been loved by Christ, who gave His life for us.

Rev. Gaven M. Mize serves as pastor at Augustana Lutheran Church, Hickory, North Carolina.

Lydia Perling

Sometimes pastors have the tendency to treat mental illnesses as sin or personal failing, instead of treating them as illnesses. There is a stigma against mental illness that makes it into a personal failing. As soon as you tell someone you’re depressed or have anxiety they start telling you to just be happy. I’ve heard things like “You just need to have a better outlook.” and “Just smile more and it’ll all be okay.” And while that’s nice, it’s not helpful.

We come to you looking for comfort and safety, looking for the forgiveness of sins and the comfort of Christ to get us through life. And we need you to give us that. As pastors you are called to pray for healing and to guide us through life. And when you tell us that the anxiety we have is sinful, the church becomes an unsafe place for us. We are going to question whether the church’s teaching and Christ’s forgiveness are for us, and we might even leave the church. When you tell people that their illnesses are their fault and that they just need to stop being ill, you aren’t telling them about the great physician, Jesus.

God can and will heal us the same way He heals those with physical illness. Your help is giving us the tools to keep going, the reminder that Jesus is taking care of us, and that even when we doubt Him, He has still saved us.

Yes, mental illnesses happen because we live in a sinful world, but they aren’t sin in the same way that physical illnesses aren’t sin. Pastors can help break the stigma and comfort us in the same way they help physically ill people.

Hear our illness and help us.

Lydia Perling is a member at St. Paul Des Pres, St Louis, Missouri.

Rev. Eric Brown

“For God is my witness, how I yearn for you all with the affection of Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 1:8

Hi. We’ve probably never met in person. Maybe we’ve bumped across each other in social media or somewhere else on the Internet before — and you’re reading what I’ve written now — which really is sort of cool from my perspective. Still, chances are we don’t really know each other. And yet, we’re able to share thoughts, ideas, talk about sin and forgiveness and all the things that Christ Jesus has done for us.

Technology, it’s a wonderful thing. It can make us seem closer than ever before. I moved recently from Oklahoma to Illinois, but I still chat with a lot of my Oklahoma friends everyday; Thomas Lemke and I can still do a podcast (Gospeled Boldly, here at Higher Things, you should listen) even though we are almost 1000 miles apart. And over Skype, I’ve seen his son, my godson. He was born after I moved but I still get to see him.

The Church has always used technology: Paul’s epistles were high tech back in the day. His epistles (just the Greek way of saying “letters”) were the best way he had to communicate. Even as he is stuck in prison in Rome, Paul was able to proclaim the love of Christ Jesus to folks all over the place.

Yet, even though there was that distant communication that Paul and the Philippians cherished, have you ever noted how the Paul’s epistles tend to end? Here’s the end of Philippians (4:21-23): “Greet every saint in Christ Jesus. The brothers who are with me greet you. All the saints greet you, especially those of Caesar’s household. The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit.” Even while he’s wrapped up in the technology of the day, Paul isn’t alone. The Philippians aren’t alone. Rather, they are in community.

One of the fantastic truths of the Christian faith is that Christ Jesus came in the flesh, in a body. Jesus is a real human being. Jesus didn’t chose to just beam feel-good-spirit-waves at us; when He came to save us He came down from heaven to be with us. Up close. He saw Peter face to face. He ate with James. He laughed with John.

Indeed, even as great as technology is, as great (or lousy) as blog posts and podcasts are, as wonderful Epistles are, Christ still comes to you in a physical, tangible way in the service — in His Supper. He comes to you bodily. And here’s the neat thing: He comes to you (plural), to your church, your congregation. Paul greets the saints in Philippi with the brothers who are with him. Our physical Lord Jesus places us in physical congregations, and calls and gathers us together with other people.

I’m glad you’re reading this post, even though I’ve probably never met you in person. But there’s something even better. Jesus comes to you in His Supper, and not just you by yourself, but you in a congregation, with other, real people. Enjoy His gifts along with those fellow saints. You get to eat the Supper with them. You get to sing with them. You get to say hi to them face to face. Enjoy the community that God has called you into.

Eric Brown is pastor at Trinity Lutheran Church, Herscher, Illinois.

Karina Pellegrini

At the age of 18, I, like any other young adult, was ready to take on the world. I had planned on college, and after that a career. I had aspirations that ranged from teaching to a becoming a deaconess; I really just wanted to serve the Lord in all of my work. I vividly remember my parents hugging me while I proudly held up stacks of acceptance letters to colleges around the country. I had planned on moving out. I wanted a taste of the independence that my friends all seemed to have. My laptop sat open, Pinterest boards filled up with apartment renovation ideas and dorm room decorations. I had it all figured out. But there was a life that my parents didn’t know about: a sinful, darker and deceptive life. What I hadn’t planned on was being caught. The last thing on my mind was parenthood.

I can’t think of a gentle way to describe the shock that goes through the mind of a young woman when she discovers she’s pregnant. For me, it was a mixture of fear and shame and guilt; those feelings were dramatically increased when I realized that at some point, everyone around me would see my sin. The secret was out. I couldn’t continue to lie to everyone around me. People from all parts of my life would soon know what I had done. And I would have to answer for those prying and sin-exposing questions for the rest of my life. Unlike every other situation where I was caught doing something wrong as a teen, this was something I couldn’t escape from or talk my way out of.

I remember in particular, as I sat in shock and stared at that blue plus sign, I felt so alone, and sinful beyond repair. I feared rejection and abandonment. I wondered if there could be redemption for my soul. In shame and humility, I reluctantly confided in my dad. The sinful lies I had worked so hard to cover up were finally being exposed. I knew I deserved nothing but punishment and rebuke for my actions. Yet, even through all of this, my father’s words of wisdom and grace cut through the overpowering sense of helplessness.

He said, “Your God is with you. Even in your sin, He loves you. Your remorse and fear indicate His law is at work in your heart and His forgiveness is immediate. In Christ, forgiveness is yours, freely given. God’s love for you in Christ is timeless. He will never abandon or forsake you, no matter what you do to deny His will for you. Christ made the sacrifice for your sin. You are washed clean by His blood and right now, right here, you are white as snow. You are sinless. You are renewed and reborn. So let’s focus on tomorrow, the new you in Christ redeemed by his abundant grace.”

So what about now? What about today, now that I am a single mom, but one redeemed and renewed by Christ’s love and forgiveness? Well, life is harder–much harder than I could have ever imagined when I shortsightedly planned my college and career while living two distinctly different lives. I’m now often uncomfortable in social situations, scared of the judging eyes and the possibility of unwanted comments from people who raise their eyebrows at me. I experience emotions I didn’t know were possible to feel on a daily basis. I feel them with an intensity that leaves me feeling hollowed out. Sinful regret comes in waves everyday when I encounter people and things that remind me of my sin. My body is no longer the body of a young teenager. It has been ravaged by pregnancy. My mind does not possess the carefree attitude or innocence it once held. I am riddled with anxiety, depression, and guilt. Along with this, I have lost the perspective of self. The first thought when I wake and the last thought when I sleep is of my son: his safety, his wellbeing, and my powerful love for him. Some days he can remind me of my past, but he will always remain a constant reminder of God’s grace, mercy, and forgiveness in my life.

I speak from experience when I say that being a single teen mother is not easy. But through an unplanned pregnancy and motherhood, the Lord has shown me that even my best attempts to condemn myself are futile. He takes my sin and never stops blessing me. He wraps me in Christ’s forgiveness and love, in absolution and grace that I cannot escape. In the middle of my sin, guilt, and shame, my God, who is faithful to His baptismal promises, guided me to repentance and showered me with countless blessings–gifts that are freely given to my parched soul. From my sin burst forth a flood of grace, the biggest blessing in my life. Through God’s only Son, I was given my son.

Karina Pellegrini is a member at Messiah Lutheran Church in Marysville, Washington.