"Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever." - Psalm 107:1
As we enter this season of thanksgiving, my heart overflows with gratitude to God for the incredible gift of this call to Trinity Lutheran. Three months ago, I stood before you with a mixture of excitement and holy anticipation, wondering what God had in store for us. Today, I can say with profound joy and thanksgiving: this feels like home.
There's something remarkable that happens when the Holy Spirit brings a pastor and congregation together. It's not simply a matter of matching résumés or filling a position. It's a divine appointment, a sacred joining of hearts and purpose. In these first three months, I've experienced that truth in countless ways—in your warm welcomes, in our shared worship, in conversations over coffee, and in the everyday rhythms of ministry we're building together.
The Apostle Paul writes in 1 Thessalonians 5:18, "Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." I find myself returning to these words often, recognizing that gratitude isn't just appropriate for the easy moments, but is woven into the very fabric of our life together in Christ. I'm thankful not only for the joys we've already shared, but for the challenges we'll face together, knowing that God has brought us together for such a time as this.
When I think about what "home" means, I think of belonging, of being known and loved, of shared purpose and mutual care. In these months, you've shown me what it means to be the body of Christ—welcoming, compassionate, faithful, and ready to follow where the Spirit leads. You've made room for me and my family, not just in the parsonage, but in your hearts and lives.
I'm convinced that the Holy Spirit has indeed brought us together for a purpose that extends beyond what any of us can fully see right now. There's kingdom work to be done, neighbors to love, faith to nurture, and hope to share. As we move forward together, I'm grateful that we don't do this work in our own strength, but in the power of the Spirit who has united us.
This November, as we gather around tables laden with blessings and count our many gifts, I want you to know: you are among the things I thank God for most. Thank you for answering God's call to this place, for your faithfulness through seasons of transition, and for embracing this new chapter with open hearts.
May we continue to be a people marked by gratitude, united by the Spirit, and sent forth in love.
In Christ's service and with deep thanksgiving, ~Pastor Mark
October 2025
What Is the Church For? A Journey into Mercy What is the church? What is it for? These aren't just theological questions for seminary students or church councils—they're questions that touch the heart of why we gather each Sunday here at Trinity Lutheran, why we serve our neighbors, and how we understand our calling as followers of Christ.
When we ask people to define the church, they often say it's "a group of people" or they point to our beautiful building. But I've been wondering lately if the church is actually none of those things—at least not primarily.
Think about it: in all of Jesus' preaching and teaching in the Scriptures, he doesn't conclude by telling his followers to go build churches. Instead, he sends them out to share good news. The church, it seems, is not primarily about gathering people into buildings or even forming religious communities—it's about movement, about mission, about carrying mercy and good news out into the world.
This challenges some of my most fundamental assumptions about what we 'go to church' for or how we think about our purpose as a congregation in Spring Grove.
The Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus: A Mirror for the Church In Luke 16, Jesus shares the story of a wealthy man who lives a life of luxury while a poor man named Lazarus lies at his gate hoping for scraps from the rich man's table. This isn't just a tale about economic inequality—it's a lesson about mercy, about noticing others, and about what happens when we fail to recognize the sacred dignity of those right in front of us.
What strikes me most about this parable is that the rich man knew Lazarus by name. Even after death, when he calls out to Abraham from his place of torment, he asks Abraham to "send Lazarus" to help him. This wasn't a case of simple ignorance or oversight. The rich man saw Lazarus daily, passed by him regularly, knew him personally—and yet still treated him as invisible, as less than human.
I believe Jesus is calling us, the church, to be something fundamentally different. We are called to be a community that truly sees and recognizes the image of God in every person, especially those whom society casts aside.
Mercy as the Church's DNA The word "mercy" can sometimes feel abstract or overly sentimental, but in the context of this parable, it becomes something much more tangible and challenging. Mercy isn't just feeling sorry for someone—it's about seeing the image of God in every person, especially those whom society has marginalized.
The parable criticizes not only the rich man's failure to share resources, but also his sense of entitlement and presumption. His sin wasn't just economic; it was relational. He failed to extend basic human dignity and respect. He failed to see Lazarus as an equal, as a child of God called to live in community.
Trinity, I believe we are called to be a community rooted in mercy—not just through individual acts of charity, but as a fundamental orientation toward seeing and honoring the dignity of every person. And so I wonder… • Who are the "Lazaruses" at our gate—the neighbors we see regularly, but perhaps don't truly see? • How might our understanding of mercy shape not just our individual faith, but our life together as a congregation? • What would it mean for Trinity Lutheran to embody mercy as our defining characteristic?
These are big questions without easy answers. But I believe they're the right questions for us to ask as we try to understand our calling as church.
What does it mean to be a church that truly sees? How does embodying mercy become our core way of engaging with the world? How can we go beyond the comfort of our building and familiar community to share good news with those who need it most?
I don't have all the answers, but I'm convinced that wrestling with these questions together is part of what it means to be church.
Because the church isn't ultimately about buildings, programs, or even gathering together, as important as those things are for our life together. The church is about God's mercy and love moving into the world, carried by ordinary people like us who dare to see with God's eyes and love with God's heart. ~ Pastor Mark
