Letters from the Pastor

Dear Trailhead family, It’s easy to miss the forest for the trees as we live out our faith in today's culture. Let me explain. We protestant, evangelical Christians have perfected the art of dividing over our differences. We are good at taking a verse or faith topic and upon learning that we interpret it differently than others, we gather those in agreement with us and do our own thing. And yet, we often flat-out ignore a more important directive when we divide. Someone might say, “It’s the scriptures we are discussing. It’s all important!” And I would agree with you that all scripture is important. So important in fact, that we must submit to the overarching themes found in scripture. These meta themes, (the forest if you will) are such things as the “one another’s” of scripture, the code sprinkled throughout the writings of spirit-inspired authors on how we are to live with each other. One such “one another” is the oft-repeated expectation that those who follow Jesus will love one another (see John 13:34, 13:35, 15:12, 15:17, Romans 12:10, 13:8, Gal. 5:13, Eph. 4:2, 4:32, 1 Thess. 3:12, 4:9, 1 Peter 3:8, 4:8, 1 John 3:11, 3:23, 4:7, 4:11, 4:12 and 2 John 5 as a starting point. And to love one another isn’t a passive, pretend-everything-is-peachy posture but rather a gritty resolve that you will be present with people and participate in what the Spirit is doing in their life.) Dividing over practices or concepts that God, in His infinite wisdom, chose not to give us more specific instructions about is not evidence of having a high regard for scripture. God is clear about what He chose to be clear about and He decided not to be clear about other things. And to faithfully follow God, we cannot ignore that fact. I’m not surprised (sad, but not surprised) when I learn that someone who doesn't know Jesus wants nothing to do with Him based upon encounters with Christians. Rather than being marked by love and joy, we are often marked by judgementalism and hypocrisy (which, according to Jesus, is doing the right thing with the wrong heart). We Jesus followers often have a reputation nothing like Jesus’. We are designed to live a countercultural life that, if people don’t believe in God or even think that He is real, they should wish He was based upon His followers. Such things as love and joy, peace and patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control are quite attractive to all people: progressives and conservatives, boomers and gen alpha, pro-lifers and pro-choicers, vegans and carnivores, second amendment supporters and gun control folks, anti-vaxxers and pro-vaxxers. The fruit of the Spirit is beautiful and catches people's attention. Pastor Andy Stanley likes to say, “People nothing like Jesus, liked Jesus.” Think about that for a moment. Who do we know in the public space like that? Can you think of anyone? I believe every apprentice of Jesus should be liked by people who are nothing like them. Certainly not everyone will like us, and that is ok. But everyone should see Jesus in us. The early church had a certain beauty about it. This ragtag group that had no political or social clout, was provocative in its love for others. Love for those they affectionately called “brother” and “sister” and love for those who were decidedly against them (which was the vast majority of the population). The early church didn’t have much going for it other than an unwavering fidelity to one-anothering one another. And that was enough. Please don’t think that the early church was perfect and therefore, they didn’t have to worry about the divisive topics we face today. Rather, the early church, in the midst of its problems, addressed their issues by one-anothering one another. They practiced the way of Jesus by leaning into one another rather than leaning away. I write this not to say we should have only a single church in a town or that one should never leave a fellowship. That’s not it at all. Rather, I think our many churches are a beautiful gift from God, showcasing His creativity. And I’ll be the first to say there are valid reasons to leave a congregation. However, I write this as an invitation to consider our ways. In reality, do we, do I, strive to live like Jesus or are we more influenced by religious dogma or our political tribe? Are we quick to throw stones when a smile, a hug, an invitation to converse over coffee, would be more Jesus-like? We are a people called to love our enemies, to pray good for those who oppose and persecute us. When presented with evil, we retaliate with good. And if that feels too lofty, that's ok. Begin by simply one-anothering one another. It’s the Jesus way. And it’s a beautiful way. Grace and peace be upon you, Grant

Dear Trailhead family, Some teachers have a gift of taking a complex subject and making it infinitely more impossible to comprehend. I had one such instructor at the prestigious School of Missionary Aviation Technology where I earned my airframe and powerplant license. This instructor’s name was Dean and Dean taught and understood electricity in a way that few people could. Dean knew electricity like a person knows their spouse after being married for 60 years. Unfortunately, Dean understood electricity so thoroughly that he had a hard time explaining it to the unenlightened. And I was one such dim bulb. I did pass Dean’s class but with the resolve to never make my living in electronics. And so far, I’ve stuck to that commitment. While we can all agree that understanding electricity is necessary for anyone working on avionics, our understanding of God and how we are to relate to Him is of eternally more significance. Consider these words from C.S. Lewis about our experience and expectations of life with God in His Kingdom. Lewis writes, “Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.” Or this thought from the Scottish Bible expositor Alexander MacLaren, ‘We may have as much of God as we will. Christ puts the key of the treasure-chamber into our hand, and bids us take all that we want. If a man is admitted into the bullion vault of a bank and told to help himself, and comes out with one cent, whose fault is it that he is poor?” Whose fault, indeed? The prophet Jeremiah, speaking for God to the exiles living in Babylon, wrote, “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” In other words, I have as much of God as I want. But often, I find myself a “half-hearted creature, fooling about,” content with mud pies when infinite joy is on offer. This realization helps me identify with the church in Laodicea about which John writes in his Revelation, “To the angel of the church in Laodicea write: These are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the ruler of God’s creation. I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth. You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see.” And then this invitation, “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.” What is it you want? What is it I want? If it is God, we can be certain that we will have all of Him we want. And if it is anything other than God, we may very well get all of that thing. Just please, don’t spend your life settling for mud pies. Don't be so easily pleased. Grace and peace be upon you, Grant

Dear Trailhead family, Imagine that you are on your way home after a day of work. You are tired, a little irritated, and ready to put the day behind you. You need food and quiet, you need to sit. You are only a few minutes away from the sanctuary that is your house when you accidentally make eye contact with a soldier and he stops you. (Oh yeah, imagine that you are a Jew in first-century Israel, living under the rule of the Roman Empire). You mutter a curse and it takes every ounce of willpower you have to hide the contempt you feel for this young soldier, a boy really, who operates with impunity because of the backing of his employer. Just a few days ago, five soldiers, seemingly on a lark, had beaten a friend of yours, claiming that your friend had threatened them. Your friend is 75 and walks with a cane. Your friend threatens no one. And yet, because of the uniform the soldiers wear, there will be no justice for your friend. And when you heard your friend’s retelling of this violent encounter, told through sobs as she relived the trauma, all you could think was that this story wasn’t as bad as some of the others. Stories of homes and businesses being seized based on trumped-up charges of delinquent taxes, stories of children being pulled from parents, never-to-be-returned, stories of brutal attacks and senseless murders. Stories that made you want to scream in rage and cry in helplessness all at the same time. And now here you are, standing before this soldier, heart pounding. What will he demand? “Carry my pack,” he says. Relief floods over you. It's shameful that you, a respected adult must humbly submit to this boy's demands, and yet, this could be much worse. This soldier is operating under the law. He can demand that any citizen of a conquered region carry his burden for a mile. And today, you are that citizen. You stoop down, legs bent, wrapping your arms around the bundle, and stiffen to stand. You almost cannot. The bundle feels like it weighs as much as you. Surely the soldier, with his youthful strength bolstered by adequate meals (a rarity to many in this region), would have much less trouble carrying this burden, but you know that to complain is to invite verbal and physical abuse. And so you walk. One step. Two steps. Three. A minute goes by, then another and another. And slowly your mind wanders from the impossibly heavy sack on your back to the mundane things of life. Random conversations at work, the meal you hoped to be eating, the worry your spouse would be feeling right about now as you fail to walk through the door at the expected time. And something a rabbi recently said. The rabbi’s words suddenly fill your mind. Although you have only heard it second-hand, it comes to you with startling clarity, “If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles.” Unfortunately, you remember even more from the rabbi’s message. “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven.” “Mind your own business, Jesus,” you mutter to yourself. “What was that?” the soldier asks with a frown. “Nothing,” you reply. You trudge on. “What could Jesus have been getting at?" you wonder. "Why did he say such things to his countrymen, already subject to so much shame and humiliation?” You wish Jesus had given tips for how to resist these arrogant intruders, not love them. And then it hits you. Jesus did just that. The first mile is humiliating, a reminder of how little power you have. But the second mile? That second mile flips the script. The first mile showcases helplessness, but the second mile illustrates resistance. Resistance in a whole new way. An upside-down sort of way. Resistance the Jesus way. With that, it all becomes clear to you. To operate in Jesus' kingdom, you’ll have to learn to love and resist. And you suspect the temptation will be to separate those elements; to love in one way and resist in another. But that will not work. You'll have to learn to wholeheartedly love and powerfully resist, simultaneously, in the same inseparable action. Grace and peace be upon you, Grant

Dear Trailhead family, I enjoy baseball. I always have. I have no clue how this affection for America’s pastime came to be. All I know is that I cannot remember ever considering playing any sport other than baseball. Note: this was the late 80’s and early 90’s and sports such as soccer and lacrosse had not gained popularity in my small Iowan hometown. A further note: lacrosse never will. Back to baseball; to fully appreciate baseball, one must appreciate the history of baseball. And in the history of baseball, 1925 was an important moment. Because on May 12, 1925, Lawrence Peter Berra was born. Lawrence, or Yogi as he was nicknamed (because he would sit in a “yogi” like position waiting for his turn to bat) became one of the best baseball players of his generation and won 10 World Series titles as a player. Beyond his talent on the diamond, Yogi Berra also had a fantastic wit and his seemingly off-the-cuff sayings have become legendary. One such saying recently struck me as profound. He said, "We're lost, but we're making good time." Doesn't that resonate just a little? The thrill of feeling the wind in our hair as we race along can drown out the nagging realization that we are going in the wrong direction. I’m constantly amazed at society's pace of life, our culture’s pursuit of more, the avalanche of new technology, and the plethora of new and amazing products that guarantee to revolutionize our lives. But as easy as it is to find fault in our fast-paced, consumeristic culture, Berra’s words also remind me of Jesus’ words to the religious people of His day. And of greater concern, we believe Jesus’ words were also for the religious people of our day. Namely you and me. In Matthew chapter 23, Jesus goes off on the best the religious institution of his day had to offer. These pious, devout followers of religious dogma were “making good time,” but Jesus pointed out how lost they were. They were confidently charging hard and fast, completely clueless as to the destination. These religious elite had mastered following the letter of the law of God and yet they entirely missed the heart of God. Jesus makes this clear midway through his incredibly insulting rebuke to the religious leaders when He said, “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former. You blind guides! You strain out a gnat but swallow a camel.” (Matthew 23:23-24) They followed the letter of the law and yet missed the law. How is that possible? It's possible when we lose the story. The story is that we were made in the image of God and yet we chose to take on the image of the serpent. Everything is a response to that. The law is a response to that. Therefore, the law was never the point. The law was given because we needed a framework to guide us back towards our original design. And for us today, when we tithe or fast or read scripture (to list just a few examples), we must remember these practices are not the point. But they do provide a framework to move us towards our true identity, our original calling and purpose, and away from our false, serpent-like tendencies. The religious of Jesus’ time missed justice, mercy, and faithfulness because they were focused on mint, dill, and cumin. I wonder how we might be doing the same? Grace and peace be upon you, Grant

Dear Trailhead family, Cassie and I love to camp and Cassie and I lived for many years in Oklahoma. Do you see the problem? If not, allow me to explain. Camping in Oklahoma is wonderful for a day or two every year. The other 363ish days are either way too hot, too cold, or a tornado warning is in effect. I may be exaggerating just a tad, but this is my story and this is the way I remember it. But we did love to camp so Cassie and I made an annual pilgrimage to the Emerald Coast of Florida for many years. We had a favorite campground, a favorite breakfast spot, and a favorite coffee shop that we returned to like migratory birds. What wasn't a favorite was the 13-hour drive to get to our favorite camping spot. To help pass the time, we would borrow CDs from the library. (Oh my! How that last sentence dates us). We had music CDs aplenty but our favorite for passing time was a disc with stories. And one story stands out to me after all these years. I've forgotten most of the story, but it was about a father reflecting on his childhood. I remember vividly how the narrator’s dad would throw horse manure on their roof every Christmas Eve night so he and his siblings would see evidence that Santa’s sleigh and reindeer had visited them. The author said their shingles had manure stains his whole childhood. I love that story. But as good as that story is, it has nothing on Jesus’ short stories. And Jesus’ story of the lost son is worth revisiting frequently. Do you remember the story? The younger son decides that for whatever reason, he is ready to fly the coop. He asks his dad for his share of the inheritance and in a surprising twist, the dad agrees and gives the boy what must seem like an inexhaustible supply of wealth. But the high life doesn't last. The money runs out, and the boy hits rock bottom and concocts a second plan. His dad was once generous, maybe he will be generous again and allow him to return home as a common laborer. However, the plan doesn't go as expected. His dad refuses to accept the wayward son as a servant but instead reinstates him into the family. And the overjoyed father doesn't stop there, but goes so far as to throw an extravagant party to celebrate his son who “was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.” But not everyone rejoices. The older brother, the faithful son, refuses to join in his father’s joy. And the older son’s accusation isn't against his foolish brother, but against his dad. “Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!” (See Luke 15:11-32 for the whole story). The father pleads with the older son but the story ends with this haunting image: the party is in full swing but only one son is home. Ronald Rolheiser explores this masterfully in his book Sacred Fire. Rolheiser writes, “Someone once quipped that we spend the first half of our lives struggling with the sixth commandment (Thou shalt not commit adultery) and the second half of our lives struggling with the fifth commandment (Thou shalt not kill). That may be a simplification, but it is a fertile image. Indeed the famous parable of the prodigal son and his older brother can serve as a paradigm for this: the prodigal son, illustrating the first half of life, is very much caught up in the fiery energies of youth and is, metaphorically, struggling with the devil; the older brother, illustrating the second half of life, struggling instead with resentment, anger, and jealousy, is, metaphorically and in reality, wrestling with God.” At some point, if we live long enough, we realize that life isn’t turning out the way we had hoped. Like the older brother, we are tempted to lash out and accuse God, “You didn't even (fill in the blank) while you bent over backward for these other, less faithful people.” And this will be our struggle: will our anger and disappointment keep us away from Home or drive us inside? Grace and peace be upon you, Grant

Dear Trailhead family, “Are we there yet?” That is the profound question that becomes the soundtrack on most trips with kids. After Christmas, my family and I took a train from Montana to Minnesota, and a few minutes into our trip, one of our kiddos asked if we were there yet. We were not even remotely there yet; we still had 24 hours on the train and hours in a car. “Child, we are far from there yet. Let’s enjoy the journey.” And that applies to most areas of our lives. And that certainly applies to us as a church. The “there” we are aiming for is to be fully formed apprentices of Jesus. To habitually think and act as Jesus thought and acted because we have become so immersed in communion, in union, with Him. That is our destination. The way we explain being a fully formed apprentice to Jesus is summed up in our purpose for existing as Trailhead Church. Our mission is to practice the way of Jesus, together in community, for the sake of others. That is the journey we are on. “But what are we doing as a church? Where are we going?” We are on a journey to practice the way of Jesus, together in community, for the sake of others. What else could a church be about? But a little explanation might be helpful, I'm sure. So let's take this in three pieces. First, practice the way of Jesus: The Oxford Languages Dictionary defines practice as “the actual application or use of an idea, belief, or method, as opposed to theories relating to it.” (A friend pointed this definition out to me and I am most grateful). We want to organize our lives around the actual application of the Jesus Way, the Jesus Truth, the Jesus Life, as opposed to theories relating to it. We want to go all in on being with Jesus, becoming like Jesus, and doing what Jesus would do if He were me. Second, together in community: In my opinion, one of the most harmful lies we believers believe is that our faith is primarily personal. Jesus’ invitation of “Come, follow me” feels individual because it is. It’s a personal invitation. A personal invitation into a family, that is. It may be more helpful to view the invitation of Jesus as “Come, follow me alongside all these others that I have invited.” Read the Gospels, the New Testament, or scripture through the lens of companionship, and you will see that most apprenticeship and ministry was done together in a community. Lastly, for the sake of others: Teresa of Avila is said to have put our journey as Jesus followers like this, “When one reaches the highest degree of human maturity, one has only one question left: How can I be helpful?” When God came to earth, it should have been so we could serve and honor Him. Yet Jesus came to serve us, asking, “What do you want me to do for you?” (Mark 10:51) Jesus came to give His life away for others ("Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies…”) and Jesus invites us to do the same. So are we there yet? No, not yet. But we will dedicate ourselves to practicing the way of Jesus, together in the community, for the sake of others. And we’ll get there. Eventually, that is, (and I suspect it will take a lifetime). So let’s enjoy the journey. Grace and peace be upon you, Grant

Dear Trailhead family, “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain.” (Jesus as quoted in John 12:24) We are in Holy Week, the culmination of the life of Jesus. And Jesus’ life, miracles, and teachings show us that our assumptions about life and how life is meant to be lived, are inaccurate. Wildly so. However, Jesus also taught us that our assumptions about death were off. Jesus told us that death, rather than the end, was a beginning. That a life modeled on the Jesus way would make death a portal into more life. But that is a big claim and Jesus knew we would be skeptical. So Jesus went first. Jesus likens life to a single grain of wheat, nearly useless in its solitary state. Useless, unless it dies that is. Because in death and being buried, that seed can birth a plant that will produce many seeds. Repeat this process of death and birth a few times and that solitary seed has produced bushels of wheat. And this all makes sense when considering seeds. But Jesus is talking about people, not seeds. Jesus is surely referring to himself, but it seems he also has you and me on His mind. Seeds that if not planted, will never birth what was intended. It has been said that death is our final baptism. Our last submersion before being raised in newness of life. Like a seed. Like Jesus. For “unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain.” Grace and peace be upon you, Grant

Dear Trailhead family, I hope you were fortunate enough to know Doris growing up. Your Doris probably had a different name, but my Doris was named Doris. Doris was a part of our church (or maybe she was our church, I’m not entirely sure of the specifics). Regardless, one of my very first memories of that little church was of Doris inviting me into the kid's space and me refusing to leave my parents. But I soon learned that I was missing out. Missing out because Doris loved kids and Doris had gum. It didn’t take long for me to find a few friends and so this strange new church became my church. And each Sunday, the little posse of hoodlums I ran with would zero in on Doris and beg for gum. And she always laughed, gave us gum, and made us promise to put the wrappers into the trash can. Doris, while not having a leading role in my life, made my life better. Doris didn’t just dispense gum and hugs, but love and joy, kindness and goodness. It wasn't until later that I learned there was a word for what Doris did for us kids; Doris blessed us. A few thousand years ago, an interesting moment played out. Parents were bringing their children to Jesus but a few Very Important People knew that Jesus’ time and energy would be better stewarded by doing other things, more important things, things with a better return on investment. But the story goes that Jesus was indignant and told the Very Important People that they were mistaken, that unbeknownst to them, these little children, rather than they, were the model for receiving and belonging to the Kingdom. And so, after putting the Very Important People in their place, Jesus “took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them.” (Mark 10:16) I’m not entirely sure what to make of that story but it leaves me wanting to bless those around me. That story leaves me wanting to be less concerned with the self-appointed Very Important People in my life and more attentive to those who are overlooked, those without power or prestige. Basically, I want to be more like Jesus. And Doris. Grace and peace be upon you, Grant