homilies

Delivered from Disquietude

Delivered from Disquietude

A Sermon for the Feast of the Transfiguration

One of the things I love most about Stillwater are the hills. I find much of the Midwest unnervingly flat, but being nestled in the St. Croix Valley feels like home—reminiscent of West Virginia, where I grew up among the hills and valleys of the Appalachian Mountains. I’m not an outdoorsy person by any stretch of the imagination, nor have I ever been, really. I resented the weekend family hikes in the state and regional parks around our home. And I’m sure I was insufferable, with my bad attitude and melodramatic comparisons to forced marches in history. But even as a grumpy kid, I had to begrudgingly admit that mountaintop views are usually worth the sweat and mosquito bites.

Called & Equipped

Called & Equipped

A Sermon for Proper 10 (Year B)

Periodically, my husband Benji and I rehash a well-rehearsed debate over how often is too often to rewatch The Lord of the Rings films. Usually my stance is that they should be viewed once a year, but lately I’ve been rethinking that stance and considering watching them again “early.” That’s because reading the news and looking ahead to the future feels increasingly resonant with the angst of Tolkien’s characters as the dark cloud of Sauron’s destruction creeps across the sky and they realize the scope of the struggle ahead.

Shake it off

Shake it off

A Sermon for Proper 9 (Year B)

A couple weeks ago, when I got to the office, I noticed that the pride flag hanging on the porch had been unceremoniously torn down. It’s not really surprising per se—I think it’s the second or third time it’s happened since I came to Ascension just under two years ago. But it was discouraging.

Families, Amirite?

Families, Amirite?

A Sermon for Proper 5 (Year B)

Families are easily one of the greatest blessings about human life and simultaneously one of the greatest sources of grief and pain. Those of you who have heard my own story know that I am estranged from my birth family. Human sins like homophobia have wreaked havoc and driven a wedge between myself and the people I “ought” to have the closest ties to. And I know from conversations with many of you in moments of crisis, that alongside the hopeful joy which you experience with your loved ones, many of you also carry deep wounds inflicted by family.

Not today, Satan

Not today, Satan

A Sermon for Pentecost (Year B)

If you’ve been around Ascension recently and heard me talk about my childhood, you’ve probably gleaned that I was an eccentric kid… sometimes intentionally so. So it kind of checks out that in about the 4th grade I declared that my favorite book was not one of the Harry Potter books my peers like, or even Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, but The Silmarillion—the frankly too-dense-for-a-4th-grader anthology of myths that JRR Tolkien wrote as part of the backstory for his Middle Earth and The Lord of the Rings.

Extravagant Promises

Extravagant Promises

A Sermon for Easter 6 (Year B)

I am not naturally good at keeping promises. Like many alcoholics, I learned a pattern early on of looking out for myself, and only myself (despite my good intentions a lot of the time). It’s that tragically familiar pattern that lies behind so much of the strife and division in our world. I learned to over-promise and under-deliver—to set my well-being in a fake competition with the well-being of others. By God’s grace I’ve grown on this front, little by little. But it can still be hard for me to “get” the promises of God that our opening collect asks for today:

Gloom Like the Noonday

Gloom Like the Noonday

A Sermon for Ash Wednesday

“Man, Christianity is metal as f—!” I won’t finish that sentence here, but you get the gist. I laughed out loud when I got that text from my friend Jay. He meant it as a compliment. Jay didn’t grow up religious at all; so I was explaining Lent and Ash Wednesday to him and telling him about the reminder of our own sins and mortality that we gather today to mark our foreheads with. And he was a fan.