Hard to believe that we have reached our final “month” of Favorite Hymns Summer! (I put “month” in quotes because local school years begin mid-month, with Canton starting on August 15.) As promised, this article is the last in my summer series describing the three hymns I selected for our summer of favorites.
This month’s selection is quite unlike those of the previous two months, as it has absolutely nothing to do with early Methodists--particularly Thomas Olivers, whose fifteen minutes of fame at Trinity included appearances in both our June and July articles. No, this month we take a look at “O Christ, What Can It Mean for Us” (#431 in our Evangelical Lutheran Worship hymnal), which comes to us from other branches of the Christian family. The text was written in 2001 by Delores Dufner, a nun in the Order of St. Benedict at St. Benedict’s Monastery in St. Joseph, Minnesota, while the tune, ALL SAINTS NEW, was composed by Episcopalian organist Henry S. Cutler (1825-1902).
The text is one of several great ones from Dufner that made it into our hymnal, and I appreciate her work because both she and I often do the same thing--pair fresh words and thoughts with good older tunes that are easy to sing but not used as frequently as they should be. Some of Dufner’s other texts that may be familiar to you include “What Feast of Love” (#487), “To Be Your Presence” (#546), and “The Spirit Sends Us Forth to Serve” (#551). Regarding “O Christ, What Can It Mean for Us”, I love Dufner’s text because it bids us wrestle with and flesh out what we mean when we proclaim Jesus Christ as our king. Indeed, many around Jesus seem quite confused when he demonstrates God’s power not through military or political might but through weakness, vulnerability, and complete submission to his Father’s will. Rather than obscure Dufner’s message with any additional commentary, I instead invite you to read through her words below a few times and reflect on the ways in which Jesus establishes himself as “a different kind of king.”
1. O Christ, what can it mean for us to claim you as our king?
What royal face have you revealed whose praise the church would sing?
Aspiring not to glory’s height, to power, wealth, and fame,
you walked a different, lowly way, another’s will your aim.
2. You came, the image of our God, to heal and to forgive,
To shed your blood for sinners’ sake that we might rise and live.
To break the law of death you came, the law of love to bring:
A different rule of righteousness, a different kind of king
3. Though some would make their greatness felt and lord it over all,
You said the first must be the last and service be our call.
O Christ, in workplace, church, and home, let none to power cling;
For still, through us, you come to serve, a different kind of king.
4. You chose a humble human form and shunned the world’s renown;
You died for us upon a cross with thorns your only crown.
But still, beyond the span of years, our glad hosannas ring,
For now at God’s right hand you reign, a different kind of king!
Thank you for submitting your selections for this year’s Favorite Hymns Summer! As I said last month, my articles for this summer will be telling a bit of the stories behind the three hymns that I picked. With that said, on to number two on my list, “The God of Abraham Praise”!
This hymn has an extremely rich history. There are some scholars who attribute it to Immanuel of Rome, but the most complete information I can find attributes the text to Daniel ben Judah, a Jewish liturgical poet living in Rome in the fourteenth century. Whoever the actual author was, the poem is known as “Yigdal” (Hebrew for “magnify”) and is a Hebrew paraphrase of the thirteen articles of belief (like a creed) constructed by rabbi Maimonides in the 1100s. The Yigdal gained and continues to hold an important place in the liturgy of several strands of Judaism, often being used for morning prayer and the close of Sabbath evening services in the Sephardic and Ashkenazi traditions over the last seven centuries.
If the history of the Hebrew text were not enough, though, its journey into the Christian hymn tradition is also very interesting! To tell this history, we have to bring back a character from last month’s article, the early Methodist Thomas Olivers (two whom the tune for “Lo! He Comes with Clouds Descending” is credited).
Olivers visited the Great Synagogue of London in 1770, and he heard the Yigdal sung by opera singer Myer Lyon, more commonly known by his stage name of Michael Leoni. Impressed and intrigued, Olivers decided to translate and paraphrase the piece for use in Christian worship, birthing a new hymn that is a paraphrase of a paraphrase! The new hymn was set to the music that Lyon gave Olivers, causing the tune to appear in many Christian hymnals with the name LEONI, though our Evangelical Lutheran Worship hymnal simply uses YIGDAL as the tune name. The backstory between Lyon/Leoni and Olivers is a great example of embracing the common history linking Christianity and Judaism, and “The God of Abraham Praise” is sometimes sung at interfaith worship services.
Like the original text on which it is based, Olivers’ text contains a whopping thirteen verses! While I would be pleased as punch to sing all thirteen verses, I am an avowed “hymn nerd” and realize that more sensible folks would prefer a more compact version. Our hymnal’s version preserves and adapts eight verses of Olivers’ original, of which I list a few of my favorites below:
1. The God of Abraham praise, who reigns enthroned above;
Ancient of everlasting days, and God of love -
"I Am the One I Am," - by earth and heav'n confessed;
I bow and bless the sacred name forever blest.
2. The God of Abraham praise! At your supreme command
from earth I rise and seek the joys at your right hand.
I all on earth forsake - its wisdom, fame, and pow'r -
and you my only portion make, my shield and tow'r.
3. The God of Abraham praise! Your all-sufficient grace
shall guide me all my pilgrim days in all my ways.
You deign to call me friend; you call yourself my God!
And you will save me to the end through Jesus' blood.
With the return of Favorite Hymns Summer on June 16, I thought a fun theme for my three summer Tidings articles might be to write about each of the three hymns I have entered as favorites this time:
With that, then, I will start at the top of this year’s list. “Lo! He Comes with Clouds Descending” comes to us from the early days of the Methodist tradition. The text began as an early version written in 1750 by John Cennick but was later completely rewritten in 1758 by Cennick’s friend, Charles Wesley, brother of Methodist movement founder John Wesley. I feel relatively safe in saying that Charles Wesley is the most prolific hymnwriter that Christianity has ever known, as he wrote texts for more than 6,000 hymns! Ten of his hymns have made it across denominational lines as well as two and a half centuries to be included in the red Evangelical Lutheran Worship hymnal we use at Trinity, the most famous being the Christmas classic “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing“.
The tune for “Lo! He Comes with Clouds Descending”, named HELMSLEY, is credited (1763) to Thomas Olivers, another early Methodist. would very much like to write a new text someday to go along with this tune because it is one of many that deserve to be used more often than they currently are. Below is the version of the text that we have in our hymnal, which includes (with slight alterations) verses 1, 4, and 5 of Wesley’s text:
1. Lo, he comes with clouds descending, once for our salvation slain;
thousand thousand saints attending join to sing the glad refrain:
Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia! Christ the Lord returns to reign.
2. Now redemption, long expected, comes in solemn splendor near;
all the saints this world rejected thrill the trumpet sound to hear:
Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia! See the day of God appear!
3. Yea, amen, let all adore thee, high on thine eternal throne;
Savior, take the pow'r and glory, claim the kingdom as thine own.
Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia! Thou shalt reign, and thou alone!
You too can join in the fun of Favorite Hymns Summer by entering your favorites! I invite you to submit your selections any time through June 9th, even if you turned in picks back in 2017 when we first did this during the summer--I would like us to refresh the list every couple years as people join the congregation. Simply fill out a Favorite Hymns Summer card on the small table in the Fireside Room and drop it in the box to enter your favorites, or you can enter them on the Favorite Hymns Summer page of the site. I look forward to singing everyone’s favorites this summer!
I write these words to you just a few days before little Rosalind’s baptism (to take place on the first Sunday of this month, May 5th). On that morning, her new life in Christ will unfold in the same way as her mother’s and her father’s and many others in the Lutheran Christian tradition: by being baptized as an infant and sent out from that event with family members, godparents, and a local congregation to continue forming her in faith.
Rosalind’s path to Christian life has been the norm for Lutherans in our more than 500 years of history, something we inherited from our Roman Catholic roots (Martin Luther ended up being pushed out of that church body as a result of his Ninety-Five Theses and other writings from the year 1517 onward). It has been the norm for Lutherans because Lutheran Christianity has existed only during the Christendom period, wherein Christianity has been a state-sanctioned and/or majority religion in many Western nations. Simply put, people were born into Christian families and then grew up to build Christian families of their own.
While that system of passing down Christian faith through successive generations has been very effective over the centuries, population trends today give us a powerful reminder that Rosalind’s path is not (and cannot) be the only pattern in which the Holy Spirit works to form faith in people. A couple years ago, the Pew Research Center did a study on the religious landscape of the United States. Their findings provide some interesting information. Christianity is the nation’s majority religion, at 70.6% of the population. Lutherans of any denomination are 3.5%, and just 1.4% of the United States is specifically ELCA Lutheran.
Those numbers are minor and probably unsurprising facts. However, the Pew study did find some other information that is more surprising. According to the study, the fastest growing religious group is the “nones”--people who are not affiliated with any organized religious group at all--which is now up to 22.8%. A quick bit of math, and we discover that there are over 16 times as many “nones” in the United States as there are ELCA Lutherans!
These sorts of numbers may seem troubling to you. They might drive up your anxiety or push your mind into dark places. How is a congregation like Trinity to continue doing vital ministry for our next 129 years without the steady generational supply of Lutherans that existed for our first 129 years?
But what if there were a way to see those numbers not as a threat but rather as an opportunity? After all, knowing that there are 16 times more people around us to reach with the good news of Jesus Christ than we have people to send out means that God has lots of fruitful work for us to do! I say this not simply as a cheerleader for the Lord’s servants here--I say it because it is exactly the perspective of the early church, as we learn in the Book of Acts.
In the first years following Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection, the apostles faced long odds and hostile environments for spreading the gospel; yet, the Holy Spirit worked through them to drive thousands of people to the emerging Christian movement. We will share stories of their work from the Book of Acts all through the Easter season, and I will be preaching a series on those weekly readings with an eye toward the topics of conversion and evangelism--things that are vital to making disciples out of “nones” and building a congregation that excels in welcoming people to share in the joy, sufferings, and salvation that come along with life in Christ!
As the waning Lenten season prepares to yield to the powerful drama of Holy Week and the pure joy of Easter, something struck me about the readings we have heard this season. I noticed recurring themes of repentance and new life in Christ across many of the lectionary selections:
All this talk of new life is quite inspiring and uplifting. It’s the stuff that great sermons, hymns, and books are made of. As encouraging as these passages are, however, the road between the old life we are used to and the new life God has for us in Christ can be long and difficult.
The observation that that road can be long and difficult is not a new idea, nor is it an original one. Like many matters of faith, though, it is an idea that Andrea and I have come to more fully appreciate in light of our recent journey to new life as parents. When we discovered last year that we were expecting, we had no idea of the curves, obstacles, and potholes we would encounter. Some of these were completely expected, including sleep deprivation in baby Rosalind’s first weeks and the process of adopting and adapting rhythms for family life. Even some of the medical challenges were anticipated, especially the need to diligently watch Andrea’s thyroid medication levels because the medicine provided all the thyroid hormone that she and Rosalind had to work with during the early period of Rosalind’s neurological development.
We expected those things and had at least some idea as to what we were getting into. We did not, however, expect such broad-ranging medical complications as Andrea’s preeclampsia and persistent (and still ongoing) battle with shingles or Rosalind’s need to spend ten days in the NICU at the Children’s Hospital of Illinois before getting to come home with us. The new life we ended up with is wonderfully full of joy, but the road to get there was far more involved than we had ever imagined.
As we continue in these final weeks of Lent, then, let us embrace whatever hard work and/or deep reflection and/or change in our ways that God sets before us on the road to the new way of life God has for us in Christ. The specifics will look different for each of us, and the journey continues beyond the Lenten season--indeed, through our entire lives. But in this special time of the church year when we remember Christ’s triumph over sin in hanging on a cross on Good Friday and his final victory over death by rising again at Easter, let us give thanks for the God who makes such new life possible for us and reminds us daily of that good news through Holy Baptism. In the words of our forefather Martin Luther:
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After a brief mountain trip for the festival of the Transfiguration of Our Lord on the 3rd, the month of March puts us in the “fast” lane with the beginning of Lent on Ash Wednesday, the 6th. Fasting--that is, observing food restrictions at certain times--is a component of many world religions, including all of the “Big 5” religions (Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, and Judaism). Each religion has its own particular attitudes and practices toward fasting, and Christianity reflects the great diversity of opinions on fasting even within the same religion since each group of Christians takes a different approach. Many of you may be familiar with the Roman Catholic practice, for example, of refraining from eating meat on Fridays during Lent. Eastern Orthodox Christians observe longer and more frequent fasting periods than that, while many Protestant denominations pay little or no attention to fasting.
As for us Lutherans, well...the situation is a bit more complicated. Martin Luther was steeped in the Roman Catholic tradition, so he was very well acquainted with the practice and its surrounding theology--namely, that depriving oneself of things you enjoy can draw you into closer relationship with God. He understood the intent behind the practice and had no problem with it, but he objected to the self-righteous use of fasting, which is the notion that fasting is a good work of faith that people can do to get into a more favorable state with God. The verdict, then, is that fasting is a proper part of life for Lutheran Christians, but we have to take a guarded approach to it so that we do not make it an end in itself.
We take that approach when we realize that fasting, while an unusual thing, is simply one of several physical faith practices that help to engage our bodies in religion, which could otherwise be pigeonholed as an activity solely for the mind. This puts fasting right alongside other things we do regularly, like sitting and standing during worship, making the sign of the cross, or processing down the center aisle during festival services. These sorts of faith practices remind us that our whole selves--even our bodies--belong to God and have been created for the purpose of glorifying God.
With that in mind, then, I invite you this year to the Lenten fast with new and broader definition of fasting, one that is not limited to just food. This year, let us think of fasting as stepping outside of our automatic behavior into purposeful spiritual adventures. Things change when we stop living any aspect of life on autopilot and devote the necessary attention to alter a particular behavior in order to more fully glorify God in what we do. Perhaps that altered behavior is a healthier eating pattern, to care for the body God has given you. Maybe it is spending more time interacting with people than with your phone, to better appreciate God’s wonderful gift of human community. Or, you might just take a classic approach and give up time spent doing literally anything else and divert it toward prayer or reading the Bible.
Whatever your Lenten fast looks like this year, I pray that your purposeful spiritual adventure is meaningful and eye-opening. Fasting is not simply prescribed food restrictions--it is a step outside the usual and into a space where only God knows what will happen!
During a recent Confirmation class, we got into a discussion about how God sometimes seems to act in noticeably different ways in Old Testament stories compared to New Testament stories. We all agreed that God is the same through both portions of the Bible, but we were grasping at straws for some greater understanding as to why God might act differently in these different situations. Grasping at straws, that is, until one student said something to this effect: “Well, you know how they say that having a kid changes you? Maybe having Jesus his Son in the world changed stuff for God.”
I am still puzzling that back and forth in my head and working out the theological nuances. Might be fodder for a future Tidings article. What I can say for certain, though, is that a new child entering one’s life is a catalyst for change--or at least it has been for me. Many of these changes will be ones that I can only identify someday with the help of years and years worth of hindsight. However, some of the changes occur rapidly and are easier to describe. For me, one such change is a fresh encounter with a Bible character to whom I previously gave only passing attention: Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist in the first chapter of Luke. I was plenty familiar with Zechariah’s story thanks to its common use during the season of Advent. I knew that Zechariah and his wife, Elizabeth, became parents at an advanced (well beyond childbearing) age, a callback to the stories of Abraham and Sarah in the Book of Genesis. I laughed along with many hearers of the story when Zechariah, questioning God’s promise given through the angel Gabriel, is made mute--unable to speak--until after the birth and naming of John.
During this past Advent season in November and December, though, familiarity with and knowledge about Zechariah’s story was transformed by the Holy Spirit into experiencing and living his story.
My situation as a new parent was an opening for the Holy Spirit to help me see my own life reflected in a Bible story I never thought about very much; however, having a new baby at home is not the only life change that drives us to find new meaning in old scripture. I invite you to get out your own Bible and to listen intently to the readings as we worship God each week--you just never know when the Spirit will give you an old story that brings new perspective to your life!
We have just come through our busiest and most exciting month of the year, loaded with joyful activities focused on the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ. We helped local people have a great Christmas by adopting a girl through the Salvation Army Angel Tree and supporting Courtyard Estates’ “Santa for a Senior” program. We delighted in the different perspectives of the four Gospel authors through the “Christmas in Four-Part Harmony” presentation on Youth Advent Sunday. We shared Christmas joy with our homebound brothers and sisters and local senior community residents in our annual evening of Christmas caroling. We shared the good news of Jesus in song and spoken word in the Christmas Eve Service of Seven Lessons and Carols.
But the calendar has now turned over to a new year, and all of those joyful events have come and gone. Yes, the twelve days of Christmas are ongoing as this month begins, concluding with our Epiphany service on January 6; however, things certainly feel different once the Christmas season is on the downswing. We emerge from that moving, engaging, and peculiarly special season into the bleak midwinter period of regular routines disrupted perhaps only by inclement weather. December’s “ho-ho-ho” yields all too quickly to January’s ho-hum, and the Christmas season of wonder ends with us feeling bored and wondering what to do next.
It is in this transition to boring, predictable, and routine, though, that the we have pause to consider the meaning of all that we have just celebrated, to consider what it means for us and for the world on an everyday basis that Christ, the Savior, is born. The seasons of Advent and Christmas fill us with joy in the truth and reality of Jesus, but then God sends us out the rest of the year to show people the difference it makes that the good news of Jesus is real and true. God sends us out to give people a foretaste of eternal redemption through Christ by improving their lives in the here and now. God sends us out to model a community lifestyle of equality and fellowship, as all of us stand before God as equals due to the human sinfulness we share in common (and, along with that, our need for God’s saving grace in Christ). God sends us out to share the peace and connectedness of our congregation with people who are in need of just those sorts of things.
We have two upcoming opportunities to share in this work to which the Christmas message inspires us:
Though the Christmas lights and decorations will be coming down on January 6 after worship, let us go out to reveal Christ to the people around us. Even when the joyful events of Christmas have come and gone, we servants of the Lord rejoice because it is now that the work of Christmas has begun, as our choir sang in their postlude on Christmas Eve:
When the song of the angels is stilled, when the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home, when the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins: To find the lost, to heal the broken,
To feed the hungry, to release the prisoner, To rebuild the nations; to bring peace among brothers,
To make music from the heart.
The peace of the Lord be with you as we join together in this work!
To be honest with you, I thought a little while ago that I had this month’s article made in the shade, that everything was aligning for me to be in perfect condition to speak about the season of Advent as it begins in December. I would have written (at least I hope) a touching and inspiring piece on the theme of expecting as my bullet train to impending parenthood with a due date of December 7. I would have mused about Mary and Joseph’s trip to Bethlehem and marveled at its difficulty in comparison to the 30-mile drive we would be making to Peoria with the comforts of heat and cruise control. I would have made comparisons between the uniqueness of Mary’s divinely-established pregnancy and the unique pregnancy I had watched Andrea go through over many months (including such medical curiosities as a mother who no longer had her thyroid, a persistent case of shingles, and some preeclampsia to boot).
However, things have changed--quite significantly--since I first dreamed up that grand plan for my December Tidings article, as unto us (Andrea and me, anyhow) a child is born! Our daughter, Rosalind Vivienne Garnett, was born at 10:03pm on November 15 at OSF Saint Francis Medical Center, measuring 18½ inches and weighing 6 pounds even. We had not expected our little “Ros” to be born in November like her daddy rather than in December like her mommy. We also had not expected to have a premature baby, but that was what turned out to be the case since Andrea’s preeclampsia necessitated Rosalind’s birth a mere 117 minutes short of her being considered full-term (37 weeks gestation).
Given all these developments, then, our time of expecting has apparently ended, and it seems that I have to find another lens through which to view this Advent season. God has given us a good gift beyond anything we could have imagined--a wonderful baby daughter who is healthy despite all that could have gone wrong. I thought: such a gift has been given to us that we could not possibly be expecting anything else, right?
And with that one meandering thought, the season of Advent took on a new and richer meaning for me to share with you. Perhaps Advent brings us to realize that even though God has, in Jesus Christ, given such a great gift and fulfilled God’s own promises from all the ages, the human sense of “expecting” does not end with Mary’s unique experience in a stable’s “labor and delivery ward.” As easily as we can see God ultimately fulfilling all at the manger, maybe the point of that first Christmas moment is to remind us that every day for us is to be lived with that “expecting” outlook of Advent--to be an exercise in watching for whatever new gifts God gives each day...and trusting that there are always more good gifts to come.
The Gospel writers understood this all too well, as we will discover in our “Christmas in Four-Part Harmony” youth service on December 16. That morning the Sunday School, Confirmation class, and Youth Group will help us explore the different views of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John regarding the origins of Jesus. The stories are all shorter than we might imagine considering the importance of the Christmas event, but that in itself is the point--God always has new blessings and gifts to reveal to humanity. Through all four of their Gospels, they tell of God revealing gifts of grace, health, social equality, courage, humility, and so much more as Jesus lives as one of us, dies a human death, and rises on the third day to forever destroy the power of death. Furthermore, even Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection were not enough for God, who also gave us the Holy Spirit to guide us each and every day.
Even though the anticipation and excitement of impending parenthood in my home have given way to the sleep-deprived realities of deciphering newborn sounds and mastering swaddling techniques, our sense of expecting remains after all. We invite you to join us this Advent in a life of expecting even more from the God who has already given us all things!
The 11th of this month will mark 100 years since the armistice that effectively ended fighting one of the most significant multi-national conflicts in modern history--the conflict known originally as the Great War (only to be renamed World War I once humanity was self-destructive enough to engage in an even larger conflict that would result in the deaths of about five times as many people). At the eleventh hour (11:00am Paris time) on the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918, shots ceased to be fired in the battlefields on the Western Front of World War I. While that ended the active fighting, it did not officially end the war--most of the belligerent nations signed the Treaty of Versailles in 1919, the United States conducted separate treaties with several nations in 1921, and the (then) new country of Turkey did not have its final treaty in place until 1923.
I am no professional historian, but I have a lot of interest in World War I. It is a painful case study exposing the astounding limitlessness to human brokenness, with the belligerent nations each seeing themselves as fighting for honor, allegiance, sovereignty, tradition, and other high human ideals. Groups and individual people were so dedicated to those ideals that they failed to see human beings on the opposing side, seeing instead only targets for destruction. They devoted the best of human ingenuity to developing ever more destructive weapons--some of which, such as chlorine gas shells, were even acknowledged as being excessive. They destroyed irreplaceable cultural artifacts. They created new nation states...but did so by drawing lines of their own convenience rather than listening to what the local people wanted or, worse yet, sometimes even killed thousands of people solely because of their ethnic identity. They discovered technologies, medicines, and formulas--many of which we are thankful for today--but were solving problems that should never have arisen in the first place. And, for icing on the human brokenness cake, victorious French leader Marshal Ferdinand Foch failed to institute a truce or ceasefire while the terms of the inevitable armistice were being finalized, which led to 10,944 casualties (2,738 deaths) on the final day of the 52-month war.
I will readily admit that what I have just detailed in writing here is pretty dismal. Even simply putting it on paper made me feel worse about our human condition, and it caused me to take a break from writing this article to question my interest in such a subject. However, in reflecting on that question for a few minutes, an answer came to me. I realized that such painful reminders of human brokenness, while they foster powerful recognition of our sin, also drive us to praise the God who steadfastly refuses to give up on us even though that sin exists. The worst of us (be that “us” humanity as a whole, our families, or our individual lives) causes us to seek the only unfailing source of good that exists--God.
Despite the sinfulness of World War I, God has yet chosen to redeem humanity through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and to work through our hands so that God’s kingdom comes on earth as it is in heaven. Despite the sinfulness of a hate-driven man who murdered eleven worshipers in a Pittsburgh synagogue late last month, God has yet chosen to love humankind and remind us that we are children of the Heavenly Father. Despite the sinfulness of injustice, fear, and oppression that make life so difficult for people everywhere, God has yet chosen to suffer along with the brokenhearted and use broken people to bring hope through words and actions.
God’s peace to you amid whatever brokenness is providing challenges for you and/or your loved ones at the moment. In those difficulties, remember the truth of the words of blessing you hear each week at the end of the worship service: The Lord blesses you and keeps you. The Lord makes his face to shine on you and be gracious to you. The Lord looks upon you with favor, and gives you peace. Amen.
Pastor Micah Garnett has been our Pastor since July 2016. He grew up in York, PA and graduated from the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Gettysburg in 2011. He enjoys worship, working with social services in Fulton County, writing hymns, and cycling.