 We are spoon rest people. I don’t know that I have always been a spoon rest person, but I am now and so is my spouse. Maybe it’s because we do a lot of cooking and canning and have old, New York vanilla-colored laminate countertops that stain just at the thought of tomato sauce, or maybe it is for some other reason entirely. I don’t know. All I know is that–as for me and my house–we will have a spoon rest by the stove.
The other day my spouse brought home a thrifted spoon rest (see photo). Since they brought it home and washed it up, I have been captivated by it. It’s nothing fancy. Just silver in color, with a person cutting wheat with a scythe in the middle, and the words, “Give us this day our daily bread” inscribed on it. Nothing lavish. Heck, it may not have even been a spoon rest in its previous life. But those words… Yes, we say them every week when we pray the Lord’s Prayer during worship. Some of us say them more often than that as we pray the Lord’s Prayer in many other contexts. And yet, I can’t help but wonder how often we really THINK about the words we’re praying–especially THOSE words: “Give us this day our daily bread.” When I really think about it, I don't really know what my daily bread is. How do I know I have been given it if I don't know what it is? Is it literal food? Is it love? Does it have something to do with my bank account or my credit score? Seriously, what IS my daily bread, and do I have it? Truthfully, I think the answers to those questions and more vary from person to person. However, I do think that–whatever our daily bread is–it is far LESS than we actually think it is. Some of you know I have been working with a dietitian to help me with my type 2 diabetes (diagnosed over a year ago now) and to help me lose weight. And as I have met with her, I have learned that what my body actually needs to live and function, and what I have been giving it to live on and function on are two VERY different things. Often, I find that I am actually still hungry once my body has what it needs. In a very real way, my “daily bread” doesn't feel like it's enough. Which got me wondering about all of the places in my life where I feel like that. Like what if God is helping provide my daily bread in my marriage, and in my job, and with our kids and parents, and I'm saying, “But it's not enough!”? So I am hustling to get more--More love. More accomplished during the dayI try to be everything to everyone everywhere all at once, all so that I can receive the more I think I need. But somehow, it's never enough. It never fills that ravenous hunger inside of us enough to actually satisfy. I think when we pray, “Give us this day our daily bread,” it's not so much a cue for God to rain down manna from heaven. It's a cue for us to pause. To breathe. To notice. It’s a cue to step back from the frantic hustle of our lives and ask: What is truly enough for today? Not for tomorrow, not for five years from now, but just for today? When we pray those words, we are not just asking for sustenance—we are learning to trust that what we have today can be enough. That God meets us in the middle of our ordinary kitchens and chaotic schedules, not with excess, but with enough. Enough energy to get through the next meeting. Enough patience for our children. Enough clarity for the conversation ahead. Enough presence to be still for a moment and rest. The thrifted spoon rest by our stove reminds me of that. That “daily bread” might look like a text from a friend at the right moment, a belly laugh in the middle of a hard day, a cup of coffee that tastes just right, or the courage to face one more unknown. It might be small. It might not seem like much. But it is enough. So maybe our prayer isn’t really “Give us this day our daily bread” as much as it is “Help me see the bread you’ve already given me today.” And maybe that’s where the miracle lives—not in having more, but in recognizing enough. I'm on this journey with you. Pr. Melissa  After a hot spell last week during which the four-legged’s in out household and my spouse required air conditioning, the windows are back open, the scent of rain is in the air, and the birds are singing. It’s almost magical the way that creation just sort of “happens” around us without any intervention from us (although I’m convinced that if I didn’t feed the birds–even the sparrows–there’s no way they could survive without me).
In fact, the sad truth is that when we humans do interact or intervene in nature’s happenings, it is rarely a good thing. We have seen this in recent decrees from government officials to expand logging operations in the US, and shared plans that will decrease public grounds for private profit. Lest we think the problem is only with the current presidential administration and only an “out there somewhere else” kind of problem, according to a March 2025 Investigative Midwest analysis of reports from the Iowa Department of Natural Resources, nearly eight out of 10 river segments have been in a continuously impaired status for at least a decade (source article). During the same period, 43% of lake segments have experienced a similar condition. In other words EIGHTY PERCENT of Iowa rivers have been “impaired” by pollutants. The culprit? Human intervention by way of big ag. And yet, to see this issue as a political one would be a mistake, I think. Particularly for people of faith. The desecration of earth’s natural habitats, creatures, and resources is a moral issue, and one that many of us–no matter where we fall on the political spectrum–have “off-loaded” into the political sphere. Exactly why we have done this is really anyone’s guess, but it has happened–little by little over time–by people from all walks of life and all political and socioeconomic statuses. By making this a political issue to be handled by politicians only, we have washed our hands of the moral responsibility we have to care for creation as people of faith. Rev. Cameron Trimble dives deeper: “The very first command in Scripture wasn’t about power or purity. It was about relationship. “The Lord God placed the human in the garden,” Genesis tells us, “to till it and to keep it.” That word keep in Hebrew--shamar—carries the meaning of guarding, tending, watching over with care. It’s the same word used to describe how God keeps watch over Israel. It’s covenantal. Sacred.” In other words, in failing to watch over creation with care, we have broken far more than our spaces for recreation, we have broken a sacred trust. Although it may not seem like it upon first read, there’s good news here. There is good news that if we–either consciously or subconsciously–have ceded our moral responsibility to politicians and their politics, we can choose to take it back. And the best part is that we don’t even need a fancy rally or even a “call your senator” campaign. Hear me when I say, those things are perfectly fine. But moral responsibility is regained when we start living more fully into our sacred covenant as creation keepers. And that means considering our personal impact on the environment when it comes time to make even the smallest of environmental decisions. For example, how would living more fully into our sacred covenant as creation keepers impact our decision to treat our lawns with herbicides or pesticides or both? How would it impact how much lawn we have in the first place? What would it mean to keep our vegetable gardens in such a way that centers our relationship with the whole garden and not just the end result? Would we use pesticides? Would we create a compost area? Would we plant companion plants in our yard to encourage pollinators? What if we lived as if reducing the carbon footprint of the world or the US began in our homes? Would we recycle more than we put in the trash? Would we think twice before hitting print on a document? Would we return cans and bottles to a redemption center instead of throwing them away? What if our church saw creation care as more than just recycling? How would we use our grounds differently? What decisions would we make about the building? What practices might we adopt or center in worship? I know that’s a lot of questions, but I think questions are a great place to start a much-needed conversation, AND a much-needed conversion of our hearts. Because that’s what will save us and this sacred planet–a conversion of our hearts and our minds–and NOT conversation amongst politicians. People of faith ground transformation in the practice of repentance–a change of heart and mind that brings us closer to the heart of God. Understanding that when our own hearts and minds are changed, the world around us is changed because we move through that world differently. So, my friends, this week I pray that we would begin to ask ourselves some questions–maybe even the ones above. And I pray that those questions would lead each of us into living more fully into our sacred covenant as creation keepers. I pray that we would repent–over and over again–as we find areas of our own lives that are keeping us from living in this way. And I pray that as we do, we are drawn ever closer and ever deeper into the heart of God. Learning to take back moral responsibility with you, Pr. Melissa  At Fellowship Time on Sunday, I sat at a table with others and enjoyed participating in a conversation about traffic in Oskaloosa. As is the case nearly anytime this subject is brought up, eventually the conversation turned to the change from four lanes to three lanes of traffic on A Avenue/Hwy 92 that runs through the heart of town.
The core of the conversation was about traffic flow–how traffic seems to get backed up into intersections and makes life difficult for anyone behind a turning semi. We spoke of accidents we’d been a part of, an unfortunate altercation that had happened between one driver and another, and the bypass that has been “coming soon” since the 1970s. But one person spoke of the struggle he has had simply reminding himself to stay in his lane. For this person–and maybe some of us–staying in the far right lane on A Avenue/Hwy 92 to drive, and only using the center lane to turn, has been quite the adjustment. But as I have thought about that conversation in Fellowship Hall, I have begun to recognize that this isn’t just a behind-the-wheel-struggle. This same struggle appears in my life when I am not behind the wheel as well. Perhaps this is true for you, too? Sometimes, I look at the enormity of needs in our congregation and our community–not to mention our world–and I desperately want to do something–maybe ALL of the somethings–to tend to those needs and bind all of those wounds and fight all of the injustice. Only, the way I go about it sometimes, is to function as a one woman U.S.O. of sorts–not supporting the needs of and the well-being of service members and families, but just supporting the needs and well-being of–well–everybody. And before I know it, I’m overwhelmed by not only the immensity of the world’s needs, but also my own inadequacies to address them. Our last Wednesday Evening Book Study found those gathered in conversation with Bishop Marianne Edgar Budde’s, “How We Learn to Be Brave: Decisive Moments in Life and Faith.” In the book, and in her recent interview on the We Can Do Hard Things podcast (listen here), Bishop Budde speaks about the importance of staying in one’s own lane. She emphasizes the significance of focusing on our unique role and calling–especially during challenging times–not only as a way for individuals to contribute effectively, but as a means of doing so without becoming overwhelmed by the broader complexities of the world. In short, we address the needs of the world around us not by being all things to all people, but by being all of who we are alongside the people around us. We stay in our own lane. For me, that looks like remembering that I am a called and ordained minister in the United Church of Christ. It looks like remembering that while our church is focused on social justice, it is a religious and spiritual organization, not simply a nonprofit. For me, it looks like showing up in spaces and with people with an understanding that I do so by way of a particular Christian tradition that I honor, and through which I walk–not because it is the only tradition on the planet, but because it is the tradition that points me in the direction of God. In other words, one of the lanes it is important for me to stay in is the lane that allows me to address the needs of the world around me pastorally. Venturing elsewhere is often a recipe in disaster for, as Bishop Budde suggests in her afore mentioned book, insight in one realm of my life does not necessarily carry over into others. In other words, I have unique gifts and unique experiences, coupled with my education, and because of this I have a particular way in which I can show up in the world with impact. That isn’t to say that I am ONLY a pastor or ONLY the sum of my gifts and experiences. It is to say that I am most effective when I have awareness of who I am and what I have to offer, as well as who I am not and what I do not have to offer. And so are you. Times like the ones in which we live are filled with all kinds of reasons to get discouraged and to become overwhelmed. And yet, that discouragement and those feelings of overwhelm can be tempered when we figure out how we can–even in ways that might feel small to us–show up right where we are, just as we are, and engage issues in a manner unique to us. This takes self-awareness and an assuredness that, in fact, we are enough. And that when we bring just what we have into a given space and work from our own lane, our impact is palpable. It is effective primarily because we aren’t busy trying to be an expert on everything and we aren’t trying to show up like our neighbor shows up or the way people on the news seem to be telling us we MUST show up. We are effective in our own lanes from our own lanes. So this week, Dear Reader, figure out what lane you’re in and start working from there. If you’re upset about ICE raids, figure out how your lane intersects with that work, and start driving. If you’re moved to act on behalf of LGBTQ+ people and our diminishing safety and rights, figure out how your lane intersects with that work, and start driving. There is freedom, not isolation, when we strive to stay in our own lanes. I pray you’ll join me in this work together. Figuring out traffic flow with you, Pr. Melissa |
Pastor Melissa enjoying time on her hammock.
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
June 2025
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