![]() This past weekend my parents gifted my spouse and I an old Quill paper box filled with Farm Journal magazines. These weren’t just any Farm Journal magazines–they were old issues–some dating as far back as 1945 and 1946. My spouse and I spent a good deal of time flipping through their brittle pages–marveling at the advertisements for “new” electric ranges, “faster” tractors, and “long-lasting” rubber tires. Tucked in between the advertisements, political cartoons (there were MANY of those!), and pleas for people to buy war bonds, were reports out of Washington D.C. These were fascinating. In one article from the March 1945 issue, there were short updates about “Young Henry” Wallace being backed by a Political Action Committee (PAC), “left-wingers,” and “most New Dealers,” and because of this backing, he would have a “major voice in dictating a post-war economy–a so-called ‘economy of abundance,’ paying jobs for all, ever-expanding world trade, and continued government deficits and debts.” In another issue’s article, talk of “Communist outfits” at work alongside workers’ alliances and unions, as well as a whole discussion on confirmation hearings in Congress that were hitting some challenges and roadblocks. In another section, there were discussions about shortages on eggs driving higher prices, lower prices on pork due to overproduction, and tariffs causing certain goods to be far more expensive to the American consumer. ALL of this from 1945 and 1946 alone! On Monday, at noon, my spouse and I watched the inauguration of the 47th President of the United States. We listened to various media outlets and reporters break down what was happening through their lens. We listened to the president’s various speeches, and tuned in for the signing of several executive orders. And we noticed how our anxieties and fears began to rise within us. And then we got to talking about those old magazines. They all could have been written today. We’re still talking about “left” and “right.” We’re still talking about unions, collective bargaining, tariffs, and building an “economy of abundance.” We’re still talking about the price of eggs and Senate confirmation hearings. We’re still being fed political cartoons and advertisements telling us about the latest and greatest tractor, or the latest and greatest appliance. There really is “nothing new under the sun,” my spouse and I concluded. And–even if just in the smallest of ways–our fears and anxieties subsided some. It’s worth noting that the rest of those magazines were filled with farmers sharing tips and tricks to increase yields, or advice on when to sell hogs and corn in order to increase profits. It was filled with farm wives (the patriarchy and its narrowly-defined gender roles were alive and well) sharing canning tips and tricks in order to better preserve food grown in gardens and not rely so heavily on government rations. It was filled with articles about people helping people as a means of getting through the horrors of war–both overseas and at home. I don’t know what this next period of time has in store for us. But what I do know is that there is nothing new under the sun. We as a people, and we as a people of faith, have been here before. Stories from our sacred texts remind us of times of famine and unrest and disease in which communities made it through by relying on each other. In fact, that’s how salvation was understood in the Ancient world–as wholeness. And wholeness only happened through group efforts. In other words, not only are our neighbors counting on us, but we are counting on us. Which means, friends, that we cannot afford to get distracted by divisive rhetoric that has been around forever. We cannot afford to go chasing the “shiny objects” dangled in front of us on social media or on the news by politicians, reporters, and pundits who dangle shiny objects for a living. We cannot afford to chase every waterfall or every rabbit down a deep, dark hole. We must do whatever work is laid before us. In light of the current iteration of harmful and divisive rhetoric and legislation we find ourselves in, our LGBTQ+ siblings–particularly our trans siblings need us doing the work of allyship and advocacy. We need you checking on us and offering the kind of social support that often eludes so many in our community. Our undocumented siblings need us. They need us organizing and pondering how or if we–as a church–might become a sanctuary for them in some way, shape, or form. Our unhoused or under-housed siblings need us to be willing to share our time and our space–particularly in these extreme weather conditions like we’ve experienced recently, while at the same time, organize and work toward more affordable housing and emergency shelters. Our siblings who are economically insecure in some way, shape, or form, need us to continue End of Month Meals and supporting food pantries, but also need us to work toward systemic change right here in our communities–organizing to challenge local businesses and our local government officials to do more than just the bare minimum. The list goes on and on. The work laid before us is extensive. Most of us are exhausted just thinking about it…now, imagine living it. No wonder so many people simply take to complaining on social media or shutting down completely. Here again, though, Jewish wisdom is helpful, “It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you at liberty to neglect it." Balance is key, which is why we pursue wholeness together. Not so that we can slay every dragon, but so that we do not neglect to do what we can in order to protect our neighbors and ourselves from the fiery breath directed at those in the dragon’s path. There really is nothing new under the sun…except God’s mercies which are new every morning. What we do in light of that newness is up to us. On the journey with you, Pr. Melissa ![]() Coming into the church sanctuary on Monday morning was quite the sight to behold. Monday was the first sunny day we have had since the new windows in the sanctuary have been installed, and the light streaming into our worship space was breathtaking (the picture doesn’t quite do it justice). I have commented to many folks in jest that I will likely need to start leading Sunday morning worship with sunglasses on…maybe sunscreen too in the summertime. 😉😎 As I have thought about these new windows, and the stained glass windows that have had the old, yellowed, covers removed from them, I have found my heart and mind drawn to more than simply the amount of light that they let in. I have found myself lingering on what they help us as a community let out. I have watched countless St. Paul folks come into the sanctuary, see the new windows, and let out a deep breath. As if all of the light coming in, and the removal of all of the yellowed coverings and heavy stained glass has given them as individuals, and us as a congregation, permission to finally exhale. To somehow collectively push out of our lungs all of the uncertain air that has plagued this congregation for so long–questions about whether or not this church still had a place in this community. Questions about whether or not we could–or even should–look beyond the present moment. Questions about whether or not this building was too much of a burden for our community to bear. To be clear, they aren’t magical windows. I know that. I know that we are still figuring out how to pay for phase 2 of the project. I know that we are still a small-ish community of faithful folks who, despite our best efforts to slow down Father Time, keep aging. I know that we continue to wrestle with who we are, who we welcome, and how we show up in an increasingly precarious political and cultural landscape. I know that for some of our neighbors and fellow churches, just the fact that this church exists is like a sliver under the fingernail. I know that we still have questions. I know that we still aren’t good at letting ourselves look at our future together beyond the next 5 years. Thankfully, we aren’t a people in need of magic–we never have been. We are a people who just need to remember to breathe–to remember that we CAN breathe. We needn’t hold our breath while hiding away in our own “top secret” Sunday morning yellow cave, we are a community breathing in the life of the Spirit and seeing clearly the community around us. And all of that stress and anxiety that we have held collectively and individually in this community of faith as we have pondered our future and second-guessed our past can be pushed out of the center of who we are, and we can inhale the goodness, the challenges, and fullness of the moment. If we let it, some of that light streaming in can even find its way into those dark, pessimistic, cynical corners of our hearts that have kept us from seeing the possibilities born of faith and a little elbow grease. So, yeah, there’s nothing magical about the windows, nor is there anything magical in the invitation I’m extending here, but I’m extending it all the same. I want to invite you to come–sometime soon–and just stand in the sanctuary and breathe. Let yourself exhale. Let yourself soften into the awe revealed when new light drenches a familiar place. Let your diaphragm and your lungs know the sweet release of letting anxiety, despair, and isolation leave your body. Let yourself hope again. I know hope has disappointed us all before, but try to let it happen all the same. We can look at the window project as simple building and maintenance, but I happen to think that it’s FAR MORE than that. It’s a spiritual project–an invitation–architectural evidence that life–real, breathing, life–is present here. And that life, as our text from this past Sunday reminds us, is the light of ALL people (John 1:5). That means our neighbors. That means you. That means me. Let’s breathe deep of that life together, friends. And then let’s breathe that life out into the world. Breathing with you, Pr. Melissa |
Rev. Melissa Sternhagen
Rev. Melissa Sternhagen was called as the pastor of St. Paul Congregational UCC in June of 2020. Prior to her call to St. Paul, Pr. Melissa worked as a hospice chaplain in the Ames, IA area, following pastorates at rural churches in Central Iowa and Southern Illinois. Pr. Melissa is a second-career pastor with a background in agribusiness and production & supply operations. She received her M.Div. from Eden Theological Seminary in St. Louis, MO, and holds a MA Ed. in Adult Education and Training, and a BA in Organizational Communications. Archives
February 2025
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