Recently I found myself harried and hurried with a bevy of “to-dos”. It was one of those days. I was in a mid-afternoon rush, and traffic was slowed by emergency vehicles and construction and delivery trucks and school busses and crossing guards. As I fell further behind on my plan to accomplish my errands, I could feel my blood pressure pulsing.

I decided a cup of coffee might sooth the strain, and so veered into Dunkin Donuts where of course the drive thru lane stretched all the way out into the side street. Uggh! “Quicker to just go in” I muttered, feeling sorry for myself, and as I got the door a woman on her way out held the door even with four coffees in a carrier bundled in her arms.

“Well, hello!” she said as I tried to scoot past without noticing. But she pushed through. “Hey, I hope you’re having a blessed day!” she said, kind of bending down a bit so that she could catch my eye and ask me to catch hers. What followed was just a couple of seconds of sharing life together, seemingly insignificant, as we looked into each other’s eyes and she smiled at me, as if to say, “Hey, it’s all going to be ok, we’ll get through this!” And that was that as she pushed on and I pushed into the line for my coffee and blueberry donut — my favorite Dunkin’ fare.

Finally back in the car, I laughed to myself a bit recalling the encounter — first kind of shaking my head at my own attempt to avoid, to ignore someone saying hello to me, and then finding myself grateful that she didn’t give up, but sensed in some way that I needed a little encouragement, a bit of hope, and stooped down to really see me and wish me a blessed day.

I’ve been thinking about it since, and trying to learn to become more intentional about greeting the people who I am passing throughout each day, trying to lift my head up and look at others I meet, and borrow that woman’s kind words….”Well, hello!” I realize that I have been conditioned behaviorally, culturally, in my lifetime of urban living to just kind of ignore the presence of others and stay in my lane. Someone might get nervous if I acknowledge them on the elevated train as I sit down next to them, let along go even further to say hello.

But I’m re-learning how much I need this human interaction, and the constant opportunities I have to see and acknowledge others who might be having a tough time, a hard day. I think about all these Jesus encounters in John’s gospel we’ve been reading through lent, and how each of them begins with Jesus own ability to essentially say to those he meets, “Hey, I see you. I see you.”

The invitation for me is two-fold. First of all, to lift up my head and my life and see others around me, always passing by. And second, seeing them, to bless them, to greet them, to say thanks for holding that door, and even more importantly, for seeing me.

Love From Here!

Peter Hawkinson

A year or two ago on a Wednesday night at church, I remember someone asking me some variation of the question: “what is one of the hardest parts about being a youth pastor today or at our church?” My answer was “helping kids understand that God doesn’t live at camp.” Growing up this was a struggle for me, and it took me into adulthood (really I’m still working on it) to incorporate God into every area of my life. Or, put another way, to understand that God is in and through all things– God is already there if only I’d have eyes to see. Beyond the example of camp, I think this is a constant tension in all of our lives and faiths. God doesn’t live at church, rather somehow we are supposed to be the Church! Perhaps God is actually most active in the places we least expect and our own presumption that God cannot possibly be found there a) limits God and b) is woefully arrogant to assume. 

In fact, God shows up in these unexpected ways throughout the biblical story. In the book of Ezekiel, when the people are experiencing exile, there is this image given of a divine throne on wheels which demonstrates God is not confined to his Temple and will go with the people wherever they go. In the person of Jesus, we come to understand that God is not even confined to his divinity or to the heavenly realm, but that God comes to earth as a human to be God with us. After Jesus ascends, again, God is not gone, but the Holy Spirit comes down and somehow God’s home and presence is within us, you and me. 

If these things are true, then we know that God cannot be confined, boxed in, or limited, and it is therefore an important part of our discipleship that we begin to invite God into every part of our lives, seeing how God is in and responds to the world around us. Our junior high students are embarking on such a journey in youth group for the rest of this year, and into next year. We are participating in the second cohort of Justice Journey– a Covenant curriculum designed for kids, that helps connect our faith to the world, and most specifically the injustice that we see around us. The program was primarily written and designed by Dominique Gilliard, director of Racial Righteousness and Reconciliation in the Covenant Church and Steve Burger, current children & youth ministries coordinator for our conference and general children’s ministry and curriculum writing giant in the denomination. 

This group of junior high students is ready for this journey! At the end of every youth group we share prayer requests together and their requests demonstrate their concern for their neighbors, for the political climate, for the environment, for the world. I am so eager to see how we will continue to grow in faith together, in doing justice together (Micah 6:8), and how our students might push us adults forward in our own discipleship. But perhaps we need not wait for that push, instead may we be ever asking ourselves– where do I need eyes to see God’s movement? How is God already at work in the world around me? How is God inviting me to join in?

With love, Pastor Lynnea

P.S As a part of our participation in this Justice Journey cohort, we have been sent many books that I will be putting into the Garden of Readen as resources, that I am encouraging all of you to check out and use, especially for the littlest ones of the church. You can see a picture

just some of the selection here: 

Our guest blogger is Melissa Kaat, who along with Kari Lindahl ministers to our children and families.

I often find myself caught between wanting to stay informed about the world and needing to step back for the sake of my own well-being. For most of my life, music has been the thing that has helped me find that balance. To me, music, has a way of lifting my spirits, grounding me, and offering comfort without asking anything in return. But recently, even my favorite artists weren’t giving me the reassurance they once did. After taking a quiet break from music altogether, I was introduced to a Christian artist whose songs reminded me of God’s never-ending love through his lyrics filled with hope and deep faith. That unexpected discovery shifted something for me. It made me realize that sometimes the things we’ve always relied on stop being enough, and this moment then becomes an invitation to look for something deeper, even in places we never thought of searching.

Music has touched every part of my life. Growing up in a small rural town in Wisconsin, music on the radio was one thing we always had. I remember listening to the large bulky room stereo in our living room constantly. In elementary school years, I often had morning karaoke sessions with my mom, using the vacuum handle as our microphone, of course! After school my dad would always have music blaring from the garage while he worked on projects and my siblings and I played outside. As a child, we had the radio on for each family dinner at night and it was always on in the car no matter how short the ride was. As an adult, with my own family now, music continues to be a part of my daily life. I often listen to my favorite bands on the daily walk with our dog. We love to stream the best sing-along musicals on our long car rides together. And during family game nights, there is often music playing in our house over someone’s streaming service. Music is a part of me, but recently I have felt like the music I love no longer seems to give me the comfort I crave, and have grown to know and trust.

A few months ago is when I really started to realize that I needed more from music. 80s and 90s country music has some amazing songs that bring me right back to the simplicity of my childhood. But right now, amid the constant stream of notifications and the unen my kids ding rush of daily news, I need something that does not just tell me a folksy story that rhymes or has a catchy tune. I am craving a deeper connection from music, something that touches my soul and fills me with the same comfort and reassurance that a child feels when their mom kisses their bandaged scraped knee. So, in my struggles, I found I just stopped listening to music completely. I experienced my days feeling longer, and I tried to fill the new empty space with highly recommended audio books and crime podcasts, but I still felt lost. This wasn’t working either and missing music, I felt I needed to try again. Over the following weeks, I tried different styles of music, different artists, and then over hearing my kids music, I tried completely different generations of music.

A young Christian contemporary artist writes lyrics that hit me, like “I’ve been sick and tired of being sick and tired” and “I gave him nothing, and He gave it all”, and when I find my prayers feel hopeless the lines “It’s hard to get up out of bed, I look up to the sky and say, ‘I’m done, I’m done’, and He says ‘Watch your mouth boy, don;t talk like that.'”Josiah Queen sings about having the newest i-phone, yet our bibles are dusty and the unconditional love God gives us all is on blood stains on two wooden beams. His songs are written with a deep love of God and he sings them with so much passion and in a relatable way. His music was exactly what I was looking for , what I was missing. His songs offer me comfort and real meaning that go beyond my old favorites. I am sure I am very late to discover him since his first song was released in 2020, but before now I have needed to look beyond my music comfort bubble. Now, more than ever for me, listening to music isn’t just about filling background noise; it’s a way I can find moments of peace and seek out words of reassurance I really need to hear even if it’s only for three to five minutes at a a time.

This experience taught me something I didn’t expect: sometimes the things we’ve relied on for years stop fitting the version of ourselves we’re becoming. And that isn’t necessarily a loss but instead it could be an invitation to be more. When I finally stepped outside of my familiar playlists, I discovered new music that spoke to parts of me I hadn’t realized were aching for attention. It reminded me that comfort can evolve, and meaning can show up in places we never thought to look.

So here’s my challenge to you: choose one thing in your life that you’ve always accepted as “just the way it is” whether that be a routine, a hobby, a habit, or a source of comfort, and ask yourself whether there might be more waiting beneath the surface. You might be surprised by what you find when you give yourself permission to look beyond the familiar.

Melissa Kaat

For the past several years it has become my habit each Lent to create a temporary labyrinth for the season. It has become a spiritual discipline that I enjoy, especially when I am not doing it alone. Peter Strom was my partner this year and I am grateful for his company as well as his knees!

To walk the completed labyrinth, to warm it up and ready it for the pilgrims who will travel it this season is a gift. I forget that I am in a gym and feel the path open up to me in the quiet. This meandering path that leads to the center reminds me that, even when I may feel lost, I never truly am. With God as my center, I am never lost.

This week I am participating in the Advanced labyrinth Facilitator Training program through Veriditas. Veriditas trains and supports labyrinth facilitators globally and offers programs and events to introduce and engage people with labyrinth walking as a pathway to personal and community enrichment, healing, and growth. I became involved with them in 2015 when I began a contemplative leadership program after seminary.

It is truly a global organization. Participating in this training are facilitators from China, South Korea, Ireland, and across the United States. I have met people from New Zealand, Australia, the UK, and Sweden at events or workshops I have attended. A large majority of these folks are pastors and faithful lay people. The labyrinth is a spiritual discipline used in the church from the Middle Ages to today.

The temporary labyrinth that is taped to the floor in the gym (we used blue painter’s tape so as not to impact the floor,) is a classical style labyrinth. Unlike a maze in which you can get lost and is created to confuse, the labyrinth has a single path that leads to a center. A maze is designed for you to lose your way while the labyrinth is designed for you to find your way.

The labyrinth path is to be walked slowly, at your natural pace. A labyrinth walk often consists of the three R’s. As you walk into the labyrinth and move towards the center Release whatever is weighing you down. When you arrive in the center, stop and Receive, listening for God’s message to you. As you travel back out on the path, Return to the world giving thanks for God’s presence.

There is no single right way to walk the labyrinth, each journey is uniquely your own. Since reaching the center is assured, walking the labyrinth is more about the journey than the destination, about being rather than doing, integrating body, mind, and spirit. 

Taking on the practice of walking the labyrinth during Lent allows us to spend intentional time with God as we reflect on how we can listen more closely to where God is calling us in this time.

I invite you to journey to the center, our center which is God, with a prayer by the Rev. Lauren Artress, the founder of Veriditas.

Invocation for Centering

Pause.

Let the outer world loosen its hold.

Beneath the noise and motion,

there is a still point holding you

together-

not ridged, not closed,

but centered and alive.

Centration is the power that gathers,

that gives form without force,

that holds complexity without collapse.

May we return to our inner ground,

rooted enough to remain present, 

open enough to respond wisely.

Step gently.

You are being drawn towards your center.

Peace,

Pastor Kristie Finley

“Therefore, stay awake, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.” (Matthew 24:42)

It’s Tuesday early afternoon, and I am working on an Asian Chicken Salad at Panera. Not the popular choice on Fat Tuesday, but I’m trying to be healthy, and it’s delicious! Here’s what I see, hear, smell, and notice…

Folks are drawn to the gas fireplace in the center of the room, where seats are filled up around the warmth, and never vacant for long. Even on a mild February day, the chill of winter will remain for awhile. What a blessing warmth is.

The sky to the south out the window has an opaque orange tone near the horizon, while looking right to the west it’s much more dark and gloomy. I wonder about those around me, which sky pattern reflects their spirit just now.

Three women next to me chatter away in happy tones. They seem to be about my age. There’s smiles and laughter. I hear remnants of high school stories from decades ago. How precious time is, how quickly it passes, and what power is held in memories!

On the other side of the clear waist length window is a table overflowing with delicious sweets. Orange frosted scones, cookies, breads, muffins, cakes, and yes, those irresistible cinnamon crunch bagels. How close temptation is always lurking!

Eighty percent of the people I can see are looking at their phones. Me too! Are they getting the newest breaking news? Playing games? Checking the stock market? Working? Face-timing, one of them. I put my phone down. Four seconds later it beeps, thanking me for my recent blood donation. And I hear for all of us Jesus’ invitation to “come away and rest with me for awhile.”

A smiling employee asks if he can take my empty salad bowl away for me. Thanking him, he looks right at me and says, “It is my pleasure.” I watch him do the same, table by table. I can tell who the regulars are, because he knows them by name and they pick up conversations from yesterday. I pray silently the old prayer of a saint from centuries ago: “You have given me so much, Lord, give me one more thing, a grateful heart.” (George Herbert)

Meanwhile, folks are grumbling at the big coffee vats. There is plenty of the decaf, mild blend, and Hazelnut, but the Columbian Supremo is out! And everyone is drinking coffee in the early afternoon, and wants the strong stuff. No doubt about it, that we need some more rest than we get. Finally it comes, and I watch people fill up as George Harrison sings/prays over my airpods, “Give me love, give me love, give me peace on earth, give me life, give me life keep me free from birth, give me hope, help me cope with this heavy load, trying to touch and reach you with heart and soul. Please take hold my hand, that I might understand you, won’t you please, O won’t you…”

A woman walks past me with a scarf covering her head and a hospital ID bracelet on her wrist. My first guess is that she is fighting against the cancer treatments. I take a few moments to pray for her health and strength as she gets in her car and drives away. I realize how much more aware I could/should be of those around me and the burdens they carry if only I’d stop long enough to see them.

So much to see, so many souls to encounter, so many stories unfolding. So much joy, so much sorrow, and all of this in every sacred day. I wonder what they think as they see me.

Life is a gift. What do you notice where you are as you read this? I’d love to meet you at Panera and talk about it!

Love from here

Peter Hawkinson

I’m blogging from home this Monday morning, sitting here, looking around, trying to locate something to write about. Meanwhile, Bear continues to stick his nose into my ribcage, his own way of pleading for what we call his “morning rub”.

It’s a daily ritual with him and me. When I make my way downstairs to put on my shoes, and find a coat, and head off to to Church, he comes close. The first thing he does is enjoy a mighty morning stretch with a kind of low key, pleasured groan. Then, rising up, he walks back and forth close in front of me, giving me full access to his whole body. I find his back and he stands still and tall as I massage his spine. Then he lays down, inviting me to find his belly ribcage and and press on the spaces in-between as once again he groans softly as if to say thanks.

The whole process takes about five minutes. Gotta get around and behind his ears. He delights when I get to the backside, a place he can never reach. Last he stands right in front of me as I gently pet him under his snout on his neck. When he’s had enough he walks across the room, circles up as dogs are prone to do, then sets himself down and takes one big cleansing breath.

He helps me think about the importance of touch, and the vulnerability and trust that comes along. This is because Bear came to us with an unknown history. I found his face on the facebook Chicago pet re-homing page. With little information we met him and his handler at a dog park in the city, and home he came with us. We aren’t sure exactly how old he is, and he likely suffered through some neglect or trauma early on. So when he first came to live with us he did not like to be approached form his back, and made it clear he wasn’t a fan of closed doors and isolation. He would not be trusting enough back then for a morning rub.

But now things are different! He has a happy life, he’s surrounded by loved ones, the doors are open, and he has learned to trust our touches. As I write now, and music plays on my computer, he howls along, evidencing that he surely has some hound in him, even though he looks like a Labrador Retriever. He barks at the mailman as he sits alert on his bed by the window that comes down to the floor.

He reminds me of the healing power and need we have for touch, and the joy we have in each other as loved ones to nurture that touch.

Love From Here!

Peter Hawkinson

To be in Capernaum, Jesus’ adult home town, is a thrill beyond measure. The ruins are extensive, including the floor and walls of the ancient synagogue space. It sits right along the shore of the Sea of Galilee, where call stories are easily imagined and a natural amphitheater seems likely the place where Jesus preached his most extensive sermon on the mount. Oh, to be there!

There is one path, to the right, where pilgrim throngs enter from the adjacent parking lot filled with tour busses. And there is one path out, on the left. Traffic flow is important! It’s the kind of holy spot you just don’t want to leave, but the two tours I’ve been on keep us moving for all there is to see in only a week or so.

The first time I was there with my dad. The second time it was Bonnie. On both occasions, we were not prepared for what appeared on the path out back to the bus. There appears to be from a distance a homeless person on a park bench up ahead. Getting closer it is “The Homeless Jesus”, a bronze sculpture by Canadian Timothy Schmalz depicting a cloaked figure sleeping on a park bench, identifiable as Jesus only by the nail wounds on his feet. First installed at Regis College in Toronto, it now appears at over 50 spots around the world.

That moment when you connect his feet to his identity takes your breath away, and leaves you wondering what to say. I remember my dad, after a long silence, said “He still in this world has nowhere to lay his head”. The next time, Bonnie’s first, I held back the urge to tell her what I knew was up ahead, and let her find it for herself. I don’t remember what was said, but I know we lingered there for a long time and talked until the bus driver came to find us and tell us it was time to go.

The sculptor comments that “it is meant to symbolize the compassion Jesus has for the marginalized and homeless, urging us to see Christ in the poor.” Coming to mind is the grand narrative of Matthew 25, where Jesus speaks with his disciples about his return someday to judge peoples and nations in an unexpected way. Here, the culminating words: “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”

It is frequently and is now the screensaver image on my computer, so I encounter it multiple times each day. I offer it simply to you as a theological icon.

Love From Here

Peter Hawkinson

The Good Samaritan

Just then a religion scholar stood up with a question to test Jesus. “Teacher, what do I need to do to get eternal life?” He answered, “What’s written in God’s Law? How do you interpret it?” He said, “That you love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and muscle and intelligence – and that you love your neighbor as well as you do yourself.” “Good answer!” said Jesus. “Do it and you’ll live.” 

Looking for a loophole, he asked, “And just how would you define ‘neighbor’?” 

Jesus answered by telling a story. “There was once a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho. On the way he was attacked by robbers. They took his clothes, beat him up, and went off leaving him half-dead. Luckily, a priest was on his way down the same road, but when he saw him he angled across to the other side. Then a Levite religious man showed up; he also avoided the injured man. “A Samaritan traveling the road came on him. When he saw the man’s condition, his heart went out to him. He gave him first aid, disinfecting and bandaging his wounds. Then he lifted him onto his donkey, led him to an inn, and made him comfortable. In the morning he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, ‘Take good care of him. If it costs any more, put it on my bill – I’ll pay you on my way back.’ 

“What do you think? Which of the three became a neighbor to the man attacked by robbers?” “The one who treated him kindly,” the religion scholar responded. Jesus said, “Go and do the same.” (Luke 10:25-37, The Message)

This seminal conversation Jesus has and story he tells seems to leap off the page these days, as highly fevered immigration policies unfold in our cities. We have great passion around the politics of what’s going on and find ourselves in heated disagreement about what to do. What is the best way forward?

In the midst of our own political echo chambers we need to come together as Christian community and take up the way of Jesus; we need to find ourselves together in God’s Kingdom, where the mandate is clear: as Christians we prioritize mercy for human beings over legal and societal boundaries. Here in the parable of the Good Samaritan we find out marching orders. Jesus examples the one who stops, and stays, and binds up wounds, and gets the one beat up to a place of safety and healing — points at him, and says, “Go and do the same.”

And there are no loopholes to neighbor love, because the love of Jesus transcends political categories and policies. Our allegiance is not to a red elephant or a blue donkey, it is to Jesus Christ. His love causes us to see the image of God in all people, and to lead with kindness in our encounters.

The way of Jesus is apolitical; the Kingdom of God transcends any human empire. This is where we need to come together and show up on our city streets with concern, with mercy, with compassion, with love, seeking to contribute to what is just and right. We can and will argue about what is just and right in our nation’s treatment of immigrants and refugees. My prayer just now is that we will work together as Christians to lead with kindness and compassion in all encounters and circumstances.

Praying with you

Peter Hawkinson

“Every time you cross my mind, I break out in exclamations of thanks to God. Each exclamation is a trigger to prayer. I find myself praying for you with a glad heart. I am so pleased that you have continued on in this with us, believing and proclaiming God’s Message, from the day you heard it right up to the present. There has never been the slightest doubt in my mind that the God who started this great work in you would keep at it and bring it to a flourishing finish on the very day Christ Jesus appears.” (Philippians 1, the Message)

Well, I’m back! And maybe you weren’t even aware I was gone. I made my way out to my happy place, the Coachella Valley in southern California. I found there the warm winter sun, breathtaking desert vistas with majestic mountains surrounding, enjoyed reading two wonderful books, had a daily soak in the hot tub, and I welcomed my brother and his wife, who drove down for a visit from the state’s fogged in central valley. All restorative things!

Another renewing gift came in this time, and this was deep feelings of affection and gratitude for you who are my Winnetka Covenant Church family — and my home. Home, after all, is about both place and people. I can still hear my grandmother Lydia saying as she did so often “Borta bra men hemma bast”– away is good but home is best. With age comes a deepening understanding of its truth. When away from home we have a chance to reflect on all the blessings, all that we take for granted, and return with a grateful heart.

I first visited WCC in the summer of 1988, now 38 years ago. I was 24. The place and you the people have been my spiritual home now for more than half of my life. The ups and downs of life have been ours to share together, the hellos and the goodbyes. Like loving family members do, you have embraced me warts and all, and we have and continue to work through the problems that come. Most of all, the community that you are has shaped me into a grace-centered understanding of a God who loves unconditionally. I have experienced that grace and love of God many times through your own.

Last week I had time and space to consider how blessed I have been and continue to be, and latching onto Saint Paul’s oft repeated greeting, “I thank my God every time I remember you…” or as Eugene Peterson translates it, ” Every time you cross my mind, I break out in exclamations of thanks to God.” So as much as leaving the warm sunshine for a polar vortex doesn’t suit me the best, I am so grateful to be back at home.

I’m back at it, and with a thankful heart. Borta bra men hemma bast!

Peter Hawkinson

It has long been a WCC youth group tradition to write a letter to oneself at the first youth group after the new year and open one’s letter from the year that is now behind us. I’m not exactly sure when this tradition began, but it’s been going on for likely over a decade. If you’ve been a student or volunteer within that time, the chances are high that I have an unclaimed letter of yours (still sealed) in my desk drawer! Coupled with writing our actual letters– which the students fill with things like, “I predict the Bears will be good next year,” “I hope I grow 3 inches by this time in 2026,” “is 6-7 still a thing??”, as well as other aspects like their prayers, goals, excitements, and trepidations for the year that is ahead– we spend some additional time reflecting on the year that is behind us and praying for those things we deeply hope for in the year to come. 

I have seen a lot of chatter this year about how January 1st is a terrible time to try and start anew with new year’s resolutions and goals, because it’s still the dead of winter. Perhaps we ought to wait until spring, some people say, as that’s the time in which new life begins to bloom. Yet, for the students, and for me too, each new school year marks perhaps the most natural time to begin again. So, winter, spring, fall, let’s throw summer in there too– all of a sudden there’s a chance for a fresh start every season! Thank God!

As I was participating with the rest of the church in our time of confession in the service on Sunday, it struck me how fresh starts, trying again, new chances, and forgiveness are central tenets of our faith. And the good news is, God offers these opportunities to us every second and all the time, not just at the start of each season. Let us not underestimate this amazing gift– the gift of being able to begin again. Lutheran minister, Nadia Bolz-Weber, posted on instagram yesterday with a similar sentiment, that it takes much courage to try again or start over, but it is a profound grace that we are able to. 

I am wondering, if along with us at youth group, you might take some time to reflect on 2025 and identify your hopes and prayers for the year to come, to mark this opportunity for a fresh start & begin again. 

Here are some of the questions we used to reflect on Sunday:

• Over the last year, where and how did you notice God?
• When did God feel far away and when did God feel close by?
• As you look to 2026, what is bringing you hope & what do you want a chance to let go of?
• When you think about the year ahead, what do you hope for in your relationship with God, with family, with friends, with your church community?

I leave you with these profound words from the writer of the book of Lamentations– “Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning.” May we have the courage to begin afresh. 

With love, Pastor Lynnea