Saint Athanasius Lutheran Church

In this episode, I reflect on transitions—those moments when one chapter ends and another begins. Whether it's graduating, getting married, or even facing death, these times can bring both fear and anticipation. The Ascension of Jesus is one of those moments: His earthly ministry ends, but something greater begins. He doesn't leave us; He ascends to continue His work through His Church, through us. Jesus is still present—bodily and spiritually—guiding us, blessing us, and working through our hands and voices. So, whatever change you're facing, you're not alone. Christ is ascended—and that means He's still at work for you, right now, and forever.

I recently read a book called President Hamilton, a fascinating “what if” imagining Alexander Hamilton surviving his duel with Aaron Burr and becoming president. It was an optimistic take on how history might have changed—but it got me thinking about the “what if” game we all play in our own lives. What if I had made different choices? Would things be better? But dwelling on those questions rarely brings peace. Instead, it often leads to regret and discontent. Jesus knew we'd struggle with this. That's why He told His disciples, “Take heart; I have overcome the world.” Not just the world around us, but the doubts and regrets within us. The good news is this: our past is forgiven, our future is secure, and even now, Jesus is at work—redeeming, restoring, and bringing good out of our mess. So rather than asking “what if,” we can rest in the truth: Christ is risen, and He has truly overcome the world.

This week, I reflected on Jesus' words: “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.” The disciples were overwhelmed, and Jesus knew they weren't ready to understand everything. But He promised the Holy Spirit would guide them into all truth—not new teachings, but the same truth He had already spoken. That's important today, too. The Spirit doesn't give us “new revelations” that contradict Scripture. Instead, He reminds us of what Jesus has already said—like He did for Peter in Acts, or John in Revelation, showing the fulfillment of God's promises. And those promises are powerful: the Lamb wins. Christ is risen. A new creation is coming—not just new once, but always new. Even in a world full of sorrow, compromise, and persecution, we hold to the joy that's coming, the joy that's already ours in Jesus.

In Chapel this week, I told the kids that if I were Thomas, I probably wouldn't have believed either. Seeing your friend die and then hearing He's alive again? That's hard to accept. But Jesus did say He'd rise. He even raised others from the dead. Still, when it's you who dies—that feels final. But here's the thing: death wasn't part of God's original plan. Jesus came to fix that, to take away sin—and with it, death. That's what Easter is about. When Jesus appeared to His disciples, the first thing He said was, “Peace be with you.” Not judgment. Not disappointment. Peace. Forgiveness. Then He showed His wounds. That order matters. Forgiveness first. Then resurrection. And now, we're sent to bring that same peace to others. In a world that's anything but okay, Jesus makes everything right.

If only you could see the world like we angels do—how different your worries would seem. Yes, there's sin, pain, and my former brother, the devil, still prowls. But our Father is greater, and He is always working for your good, even when you can't see it. I saw it that first Easter morning. I rolled the stone away, not to let Jesus out—He was already risen!—but so the women could see that death had lost. They came expecting death, but we redirected their eyes to Jesus and His Word. And the moment they remembered His promise, we saw faith begin to bloom. That same Word still brings hope today. Because if Jesus can bring life from the cross and the grave, He can bring good in your life too—no matter what you're facing. So fix your eyes on Him, not your fears. Run to Him like Peter ran to the tomb. Come every Sunday, because He's there for you—with forgiveness, with life, with victory. Christ is risen—and because of that, every day is filled with hope.

Tonight, I reflected on how stories shape who we are—our families, our country, and especially our faith. Just like people turn to ancestry sites to learn their roots, we as Christians turn to Scripture. The stories of Adam, Abraham, Israel, and more—they're not just old tales; they're our story. And through baptism, Jesus' story becomes our own. His death, resurrection, and life are now part of our identity—we are baptized children of God. That's why we remember our baptism tonight. This is where we come from, this is who we are. And it's a story worth passing down.

Since last Good Friday, death has touched so many lives—friends, family, strangers near and far. It's a reminder that the wages of sin is death, and we all feel its sting. But tonight, we gather not in despair, but in hope. Because Jesus, the Unbroken Life, stepped into death to break it from the inside. He wasn't a victim—He chose the cross to pay the full price of sin, once and for all. And when He said, “It is finished,” death was defeated. Now, even as we face the reality of our own mortality, we do so with confidence, knowing that life—not death—has the final word.

Tonight, I reflected on the true meaning of the Passover—how Jesus, knowing His death was near, became the final Passover Lamb for us all. Just like the first Passover in Egypt, there was blood and there was eating—but this time, it was His own body and blood, given for the forgiveness of sins. Jesus gave us this meal not just to remember, but to live. Every time I come to the Lord's Supper, I'm not just looking back—I'm looking forward, practicing for the feast that has no end. This is the meal that carries me from death to life.

Today, I reflected on this truth: Jesus made us a kingdom. Not a place, but a people—freed by His blood, loved beyond measure. His wounds mark the cost of that love, and this week, I remember that sacrifice with thanks and praise. Holy Week isn't just about mourning—it's about celebrating our King who gave everything to make us His own.

This week, I was reminded that faith is a fight—a real battle, not a walk through a peaceful garden. Paul told Timothy to “fight the good fight of the faith,” and I feel that in my bones. We're up against three fierce enemies: the devil, the world, and our own sinful nature. The devil wants to devour me, not just mess with me. The world pushes lies that sound comforting but pull me away from Christ. And my own heart? It's often the most rebellious of all. But Paul's encouragement is clear: fight with the good confession. That means speaking truth—God's truth. Saying the same thing God says about sin, grace, and who Jesus is. That's what Jesus did before Pilate, and that's what I'm called to do now. So this Holy Week, I'm standing firm, confessing that Jesus is the Son of God, crucified and risen for me. The fight is real—but so is the victory. And with Christ, I know I win.

This Palm Sunday, I reflected on Jesus' so-called ‘triumphal entry' into Jerusalem—a parade of praise that seemed like a celebration before the victory was actually won. It looked like triumph, but the real triumph was still to come. While the crowd praised Him, others were stirred to stop Him, setting the stage for His suffering and death. But that cross, that apparent defeat, would become His true moment of triumph—His ‘triumphal exit.' Jesus made Himself nothing for us, bore the weight of all sin, and through His death and resurrection, secured our eternal life. That's the mind of Christ we're called to have: trusting God's promises as already fulfilled, even when we're in the middle of the struggle. Because of Him, we can make ourselves nothing, knowing in Him, we are never forgotten—only loved, redeemed, and lifted up.

This week, I picked up where we left off with the Parable of the Prodigal Son, fusing it with another of Jesus' parables to explore what might have happened next. What if the older brother never repented, but instead followed the same path of greed and rejection as the tenants in the vineyard? What if the younger brother returned—resurrected—and forgave him anyway? This story points us straight to Jesus: rejected, crucified, risen, and offering forgiveness instead of revenge. And just like the older brother, we have a choice—resist and be crushed, or repent, be broken, and receive His grace. It's a stunning picture of love that changes everything. Let's fix our eyes on Jesus, the cornerstone, and walk in the joy and freedom He's given us.

In this episode, I take you deep into the Garden of Gethsemane—not the calm, peaceful scene often depicted in art, but the agonizing, heartbreaking reality of Jesus' final hours before His arrest. As Judas sets His betrayal in motion, Jesus pours out His soul in prayer, facing the unbearable weight of the cross—not just the physical torment but the spiritual burden of bearing the sins of the world. I'll walk you through His intense struggle, His plea to the Father, and the moment an angel was sent to strengthen Him. And through it all, we see the depth of His love—choosing suffering so we could receive grace. Join me as we prepare for what comes next: the path to the cross.

Today, we pause to hear the grumbling of the Pharisees—outraged that Jesus welcomes sinners and eats with them. In response, Jesus tells a parable, not just about a wayward son who squandered everything but about a father who welcomes him home with open arms, taking on his shame and restoring him completely. But then comes the older son—resentful, bitter, convinced that grace should be earned. Yet this parable isn't just about two sons—it's about a Father whose love never wavers. A Father who welcomes the broken, the messy, and the undeserving. A Father who rejoices over His children, no matter where they've been or what they've done. This is the heart of God—the foundation of His Church. And today, He says to each of us: ‘You are my child. Welcome home.'

Over the past couple of weeks, you've heard me talk about the one I call the traitor—Satan, the devil. He turned against our Father, led others astray, and now he's after you, too. He wants to sift you, pull you down, and make you just like him. Tonight, we saw how he went after Peter and Judas. He played on their fears, their pride, their doubts. Peter denied Jesus three times—just as the traitor wanted. But Peter turned back. Judas, though? He didn't. And that's what the traitor wants: not just to make you stumble, but to keep you from turning back. But here's the good news—our Father has already overcome him. Jesus went to the cross for you. No matter how hard the traitor sifts you, you can always turn back, and our Father will never turn you away. So think about it—are you aware of how the traitor is working against you? More importantly, do you know the strength you have in our Father? Because He is greater. And in Him, so are you.

Today, I'm reflecting on something we rarely think about—our eyes. Ever notice how they're designed to look outward, not inward? It's almost like we were made to focus on others—their needs, their goodness, and the beauty of God's creation. But too often, we get caught up in something else: seeing others' faults instead of our own. In today's episode, we wrestle with this tough reality and dive into Jesus' words that turn the mirror back on us. He calls us not to judge others, but to repent—to see our own sin, our own shortcomings, and our deep need for His mercy. But here's the good news: we are not cut down. Jesus, the true vine, took our place. He was cut down on the cross so that we might live, grow, and bear fruit in Him. So let's talk about what true repentance looks like—not just regret, but a life transformed. A life where we see others with compassion, where we trust in God's grace, and where we praise Him not just with words, but with lives of forgiveness and love.

Time moves differently for us than for our Father. While generations passed before His promise of a Savior was fulfilled, it happened at just the right moment. As an angel, I watched it unfold—from the rescue of Lot to the birth of Jesus, His baptism, and His battle against the traitor in the wilderness. Jesus came as one of you, taking on your struggles, your temptations—yet He stood victorious where all others had fallen. He fought for you, traded His life for yours, and calls you His prize. The enemy knows this, and he's coming after you. But take heart—Jesus has already won the victory. Join me next week as we dive deeper into this battle and what it means for you today.

In his letter to the Philippians, Paul makes a profound statement: Our citizenship is in heaven. In a world where earthly status and identity hold great significance, Paul redirects our focus to our true and eternal identity in Christ. Roman citizenship was highly valued, offering protection, privilege, and status. Yet, Paul, who possessed both Roman and Jewish prestige, considered it all worthless compared to knowing Christ. His life, marked by suffering and sacrifice, reflected his unwavering commitment to his heavenly citizenship. This truth challenges us today. Earthly comforts and identities often compete for our loyalty, yet Christ calls us to a greater reality. Through baptism, we are made citizens of heaven, given a new identity, and assured of our resurrection. As we navigate this world, we are called to live differently—fixing our eyes on Jesus, standing firm in faith, and trusting that He will complete the good work He has begun in us.

This week, I take you inside a battle that shook heaven and earth—one that started with a rebellion and led to an expulsion. Actually, two expulsions. I share my firsthand account of the great war in heaven, where we, the angels, fought against our own fallen brothers. We cast them down, but they didn't stay idle for long. Their leader—whom you call Satan—went straight after humanity, deceiving them into turning against our Father. And just like that, the world was broken. Shame, sin, and separation entered the picture. But our Father wasn't done. He had a plan. A promise. A future. From the first expulsion in Eden to the cross of Christ—a new Tree of Life—I walk you through the divine rescue mission that's still unfolding. And trust me, you don't want to miss what happens next.

In this episode, I reflect on the Bible's portrayal of life as a constant battle—not just between good and evil, but a personal struggle where the devil attacks us directly, turning us against one another and even against God. From the moment of baptism, this battle begins, and the fight is relentless. Yet, Christ entered the fight on our behalf. In the wilderness, He faced relentless temptation but stood firm by wielding the Word of God. On the cross, He endured ultimate suffering and still entrusted Himself to the Father, achieving victory over sin, death, and the devil. Lent reminds us to prepare for this ongoing battle. We arm ourselves with God's Word, standing firm in faith and fixing our eyes on Jesus. His victory is our victory, His forgiveness our strength, and His life our hope. With Christ as our champion, we fight not alone, but with Him—our Christus Victor—now and forever.

Today's episode reflects on a lesson from childhood—taking responsibility for our wrongs rather than hiding them. Though difficult, this practice taught that sin has real consequences. Likewise, the Church calls us to repentance, not for punishment, but for healing. We cannot make ourselves holy or reconcile with God by our own efforts. Only Christ, who bore our sin and shame, can do that. This Lent, we are called to stand together in prayer, fasting, and charity—not to earn righteousness, but to live out the new life Christ has given us. Now is the time for grace, mercy, and true renewal.

This past week was extraordinary—filled with both sorrow and hope. We gathered for a memorial service for our oldest member, and the very next day, a funeral for the youngest. In the midst of grief, we found confidence, because the Transfiguration of our Lord reminds us of a greater reality. On that mountain, Jesus revealed His glory, standing with Moses and Elijah, speaking of His own exodus—His journey to the cross. Moses, who led the first exodus, stood before the One who would complete the final one, leading us not just out of Egypt, but out of sin and death. And Elijah, who called down fire on Mt. Carmel, foreshadowed the ultimate sacrifice—Jesus offering Himself on the cross. We often see suffering and sorrow, but what we hear in Jesus' words is life, victory, and resurrection. Just as Roy and Philip departed in Jesus, their journey does not end in death, but in glory. One day, the veil will be lifted, and we will stand with Christ, in the presence of all the saints. Until then, we walk this journey knowing we are not alone. Jesus is with us, guiding us every step of the way.

Today, we weep as Rachel wept for her children, mourning the reality of death in a fallen world. But even in our sorrow, we hold fast to the promises of God. The prophet Jeremiah spoke of restoration—of children returning from the land of the enemy. That promise found its fulfillment in Christ, who through His death and resurrection has conquered our greatest enemy: death itself. Because Jesus came back from the grave, we have hope. We do not grieve without it. A day is coming when every grave will be emptied, every tear wiped away, and we will be reunited in our true home. Until then, we wait with faith, looking forward to the resurrection and the life to come. Come, Lord Jesus.

Today, we reflect on what it means to not only live well but to die well. Martin Luther once said that the Christian faith is less about living a good life and more about dying a good death. This truth reminds us that our hope lies not in our own efforts but in Christ's victory. Roy, a faithful servant, exemplified this. Though life brought struggles, he remained steadfast in faith, receiving God's grace until the very end. His passing was not an end, but a beginning—entering eternal life, secured by Christ's resurrection. As we remember Roy, we do not grieve without hope. We give thanks for his life and the assurance that, in Christ, death is swallowed up in victory. Until the Last Day, we remain steadfast in faith, trusting in the promise of life everlasting.

Today, we're looking at the incredible story of Joseph—his betrayal, suffering, and ultimate rise to power in Egypt. But what stands out most is his response to his brothers. Instead of revenge, he chooses forgiveness, showing us what it means to trust that God is in control. Like Joseph, we are free to love, forgive, and live differently, knowing that God goes before us and has our back. In Christ, we don't just settle scores—we live in mercy. Let's dive into how that changes everything for us today.

Today, we reflect on what it truly means to be blessed. Jesus tells us that blessing is found not in wealth or comfort but in trust in Him— even in struggle and loss. Too often, we separate faith from daily life, yet true blessing is being rooted in Christ. No matter our circumstances, He remains our foundation. Because of Him, we can live differently—trusting, forgiving, and loving. Blessed are you, not because you feel it, but because Jesus has done it. So rejoice—your reward is great in heaven.

Today, we reflect on Peter's transformative encounter with Jesus. A miraculous catch of fish should have been a moment of triumph, yet for Peter, it revealed the weight of his sin. Faced with Christ's holiness, he fell to his knees in fear. But instead of condemnation, Jesus offered grace: ‘Do not be afraid.' This moment was not just about Peter—it is about all of us. We often overlook our own shortcomings until confronted with God's presence. Yet, as with Peter, Jesus meets us not with judgment, but with forgiveness and a renewed purpose. Now, as the Church, we cast the net of Christ's mercy, extending His grace to a world in need. Just as Peter was called to ‘fish for men,' so are we—trusting that Jesus Himself fills the net.

This week on the podcast, we reflect on the fragility of life and the certainty of our Savior. After commemorating Sanctity of Life Sunday, we were reminded again how quickly and unexpectedly life can change. Yet, in the midst of uncertainty, we gather in worship—not to do something for God, but for Him to do something for us. We looked at the story of Simeon, who held the infant Jesus in his arms and saw in Him the fulfillment of God's promise. Not a distant, powerful God in a cloud, but a God in human flesh, come to save us. That same presence of Christ is with us today—not just in history, but in His body and blood given for us. Because of that, we can live with confidence. We don't have to fear death, and we don't have to live in anxious self-preservation. The Savior we need is the Savior we have. Join me as we explore how this truth changes everything.

Today, I reflect on the profound truth that God desires life for us. Not just existence, but a life that overflows with His light and hope, even in the midst of the brokenness we've created. Our rebellion turned this world into a “house of doom,” yet Christ stepped into that darkness to breathe our poisoned air, endure our despair, and win us back to life. I explore how this message is tied to Sanctity of Life Sunday and the legacy of St. Titus—a reminder that every life matters to God, from the womb to the tomb. Christ's victory gives us hope to live as agents of His Kingdom, even amidst wolves. It's not easy, but in Him, we find forgiveness, healing, and the strength to bring His life to others. How will you let His life transform yours today?

The devastating wildfires in California bring to mind the fragile, unpredictable nature of life. Homes and dreams reduced to ash are heartbreaking reminders that this world isn't as stable as we often think. In moments like these, some question God, while others wrongly blame the victims. But the truth is, God's ways are beyond our understanding, and He calls us instead to trust Him. Through the words of Isaiah, God promises, “When you pass through fire, you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.” This doesn't mean we won't face loss or hardship, but that He will be with us, strengthening us, redeeming us, and giving us peace beyond this world's uncertainties. Ultimately, our hope isn't in things we build or protect, but in God's unshakable promises. Through Baptism, we're claimed as His own, and through the cross, Jesus endured the fire of God's wrath so we wouldn't have to. No matter the destruction around us, in Him, we are secure. Come hell or high water, we are His.