it's official!

i'm a soon-to-be graduate and pastor!

i turned in all my finals (the final final was turned in about half an hour ago), which means that i'm done with coursework and just have to wait for the grades to be posted (grades for 3 of 5 for my current classes are already posted) so that i can get a signed diploma.

next step: set up ordination and start date.
the people at my new parish (tri-county ministry in north dakota) kept asking when i would be started.
i think they were excited or something...
but i had to always respond that i was in the midst of finals and had been focusing on schoolwork and hadn't looked that far in advance, and that i had literally just signed the letter of call that day/the day before and had yet to set up ordination, after which i would pick a start date...
so they just have to wait about for me to get a few things lined up...

i went to synod assembly this past weekend and it was fun to be with my fellow first call candidates (technically i already knew a few of them so only 3 were new to me).
it was nice to put faces to names i had heard and who i will be colleagues with in the near future.

oddly enough, i was sitting and eating pizza on pizza friday (cause luther sem's cafeteria always serves pizza on fridays for lunch) with a few fellow students, when one (beau) pointed out that according to luther, ordination is a moot point since a pastor is a pastor as soon as a congregation calls them...
which kinda freaked me out
i mean, a congregation extended a call so i am already a pastor?
i had not even officially said yes (at that point, even though i knew that i was going to), and i was already a pastor?

the i realized that i didn't care about how nerve-wracking it sounds since i'm excited to be a pastor.

wow.
i apologize for jumping around and not having a clear train of thought.
but my thoughts are jumbled, and i guess my writing reflects that...

share size

so i stopped by walmart last night (went to fargo without one of the four toothbrushes i already own). and was intrigued by the "share size" of skittles and starburst.

so i paid $1 for the candy so i could share.

and i did share.

cause the wrapper said to...

the end of soap operas?

in my perusing of blogs on my google reader, i ran across this one.

i was intrigued for a few reasons to learn that soap operas are being cancelled left and right.

here are a few thoughts:
1. i was surprised they were still going and weren't axed before. i mean, seriously, who watches them? i gave up on the over-the-top dramatics as a high schooler. that's right, teenage me was fed up with the antics. (not that i was a drama junkie in any sense of the word)
2. i won't miss them. as the article points out, there are plenty of other (and much better) shows to watch.
3. what purpose did they ever serve?
4. how many times can people die (or appear to die), lose their memory, have affairs, bicker over the silliest things? so petty and annoying...

yes, i'm bitter about soap operas.
no, i'm not sad to see them fall by the wayside.

ministry in media video

for my ministry in media class, we were assigned to put together a video to give to a minnesota without poverty. it could be anything we wanted, but we had to have it related to the coalition or poverty...
i chose to use the experience of leading the discussion guide at a local congregation as my source of inspiration.
if you want to know more about my reflections and experience while talking about "enough for all", check this post from my other blog (the serious one i started for this class).
i'm so proud of my video that i'm choosing to post it here and on my other blog.

here is my project:


Enough for All from Kara Wiechmann on Vimeo.

if you don't see a video, here is another link

Music copyright link:

untitled track (James Blackshaw) / CC BY-NC-SA 3.0

family pastor

a congregation will be voting this coming sunday on whether or not to call me as their pastor.
i'm super excited (and if you happen to see me and ask me, i'll be wearing a giddy grin and be ready to start bouncing around).
but also nervous. nervous because nothing is set in stone and the vote hasn't taken place yet and i haven't signed papers and we haven't negotiated a start date...

and i keep getting ahead of myself.

about 3 weeks ago i was freaking out about never receiving a call, when all of a sudden a voice popped into my head and told me,
"Be still and know that I am God."
i love it when i get those moments of clarity. they don't happen often, so i really listen up when they do. that day i listened and immediately let go of the concerns and worries and felt my clenched shoulders relax. i was reminded that there was nothing i could do but be still and know that God is God.

and about a week later i was called and informed that a call committee intended on extending a call. i was pleased and shocked and unsure what to feel since the emotions were so intense as the call process was becoming real in a very different way.

i'm going to be a pastor.

what is really startling is how my entire life is working towards full-time ministry. i'm finally beginning to accept the title of pastor. somehow in the past few months, i've become comfortable with being a pastor.

i know, i know. i've been preparing for this for how many years and it's only now that i'm comfortable?
yep, it is.
cause until now i was always a student, but things are changing.
two weeks from today is my last day of classes. i'm nostalgic for the loss of the school setting that i've known and loved for the last 20 years.
but i'm ready to be a professional.
i'm ready to trade in the hoodies for sweaters and cardigans (oh wait, i've already done that...).
i'm giving up t-shirts for clergy shirts (i'm heading to north dakota where pastors can wear clergy shirts with jeans...i plan on wearing jeans at least once a week, just because i err on the informal side).

a year ago, i was still overwhelmed with the idea that my family would see me as a pastor.
a year ago, i needed them to keep me grounded and remember who i was (which was not a pastor).
but now, i'm a pastor.
and i'm still their daughter/sister/cousin/niece/granddaughter/friend.
i'm excited to be both.

last month strangers at a cousin's wedding saw me as the pastor and i'm pretty sure had no idea what my real name was, which i take is a sign that i've ceased to be the student and have stepped into the world of the pastor.

my family has started to shift how they see me and my role.
when i decided to go to seminary, i began being drafted to pray at meals. i still resist every once in a while, but i find it easier to say yes and am flattered to be asked.
when i told people i was going to be a pastor, they started telling me where the openings were.
when they realized that i would be able to preside over weddings and baptize children, they began asking me to enter their lives in new ways as the family pastor.

i talked to two of my four sisters today.
one sought some pastoral advice from me (which oddly enough looks exactly like asking her big sister for advice).
and the other, when she called, joked with me that she was calling to talk to her sister and not the future pastor.

the tension is there between pastor and sister.
but not for them.
because i'm both sister and pastor.
i'm the sister who will be a pastor.

as both pastor and relative, i can bring a special, personal connection to key moments in life transitions.
moments i would be part of anyway as family, but as pastor and family i get to bring a more intimate bond into the moments blessed by God.

and i'm excited

Doubt sermon

I preached at Salem English Lutheran in Minneapolis this morning on John 20:19-31, the so-called "doubting Thomas" text.

This was my sermon (not exactly since I ad lib while preaching):

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be pleasing to you, our Rock and Redeemer. Amen.

I had a professor in college who had a collection of sayings. By senior year, the religion majors had them all memorized. For example, he had standard greetings and dismissals for each class period. He would literally greet us the same way at the start of the class, and then he would send us on our way with the same words of dismissal. The last class period of the week he had a slight variation of his dismissal that was adjusted to encompass the upcoming weekend. Four years ago I could recite the words with him, but today I cannot recite what he said. Instead, I remember one other saying that he used less routinely. This saying affected how I approach talking about faith and certainty, and it continues to shape how I interact with others.

“Think you may be wrong.”

What a profound statement. It left marks on numerous students because it challenged our desire for certainty. We were student who craved the right answers, who did not want to doubt, who wanted the proof and the chance to always be right.  

“Think you may be wrong” caused us to stumble a bit in our pursuit of having the right answers and to never doubt ourselves. We opened ourselves up to respect that others may be right if we are wrong. We let go of the certainty as we recognized that we may have the wrong answers and that another, even one we don’t like, may have the right answer. We opened ourselves to doubt, but in a good way. Because the focus was not on finding the right answer, but being open to the questions and to the pursuit of truth. Even if we were and are wrong, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that doubt and questioning are part of learning.

Think you may be wrong.

Doubt was liberating because we were able to question what we thought to be true, while we looked around us to find out what else might also be true and good and right. What else was more true and right. Doubting ourselves was a good thing because it kept us from being too self-righteous.

But in today’s text we encounter a story where doubting others is not looked upon as a good thing. Doubt here gets a bad name, and has had a bad reputation for centuries.

Doubt is more than respecting that others may be right. Doubt is deeply connected to faith and belief. Jesus blesses those who believe without seeing, those who do not doubt the words of their friends who tell the story of the risen Christ, those who do not see and doubt but do not see and believe anyway. Jesus blesses those who do not doubt.

But maybe there is more to doubting Thomas. Maybe he is more than the disciple who doubts. He hears the stories that his friends are telling him, stories of seeing Jesus who had just died but was raised. His fellow disciples share their stories of how they saw Christ and rejoiced.

And he wants to see. His words of doubt are also filled with his desire to see the Lord for himself, not just because he doubts what his friends saw but because he too wants to see. He wants to see Jesus.

The text tells us that Thomas declares that he will not believe unless he sees the risen Christ. He wants to see Jesus again. He doesn’t want to miss out on the opportunity and be the odd man out.

He gets lucky. A few days later, he and the other followers have gathered together when Jesus shows up, greeting them in peace. Then Jesus, knowing what Thomas had said earlier, tells him to look and touch, tells him to not doubt but to believe.

And Thomas’ reaction is startling. He does not look to his friends and say, “You were right! I don’t know why I doubted your word.” He instead looks at Jesus and makes a confession. His doubt is transformed into announcing that Jesus is the Lord and God. He sees Jesus and his response is to say, “my Lord and my God.” He makes a faithful confession.

So what do we learn from doubting Thomas?

First, doubt is not always evil but is always real. Doubt exists and cannot be denied. I think part of the reason we read about doubting Thomas every year after Easter is because we understand the challenge of believing what we have heard but not seen.

As Christians, we are an Easter people. We are a people who gather together to worship Jesus as Lord and God, Jesus who died but was raised again. We gather together in spite of the doubt that is real and often rampant in our world where we are trained to doubt, where we are raised to be skeptical of anything that we do not see with our own eyes, to question when we do not have proof. Our world is full of doubt.

We understand Thomas’ doubt. We live his experience. If we are not the one doubting, we know of others who doubt. Doubt is real and is always present in the church. Especially right after Easter, when we ourselves have the same desire to see the proof that Jesus is risen. Doubt is real.

But doubt is not the end of the story. Doubt ends up in a faithful confession. We question the truth of what we read, and then we take the leap into believing. We show our faith by confessing Jesus is our Lord and God without seeing. We do not get the luxury of always seeing Jesus with his wounds and scars.

But we stand in a long line of people who have clung to the promise, who choose to believe the story despite not seeing with our very own eyes. Doubt does not stop us from confessing who Jesus is.

We are an Easter people. Doubt is not the end of the story; death is not the end of the story. Despite the fact that we may or may not have seen the risen Lord, we believe that Jesus was raised from the dead and showed up to people.

We gather together this morning not to ignore doubt, but to make the leap to confess that Jesus is Lord and God. We gather together to celebrate Christ’s triumph over death. Despite the fact that we do not see, we choose to believe.

We cling to the blessing that Jesus gives to those who believe without seeing.

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Thanks be to God. Amen.