This is the way.

2 Corinthians 3:18

And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.

My husband and I started watching ‘The Mandalorian’ at the start of quarantine. If you don’t know much about the series, it follows the Star Wars genera and is about a sect of people called “The Mandalorians.” The Mandalorians are people who wear a very specific type of armor and are generally contracted bounty hunters. They have a code that each Mandalorian is to follow and one of the rules is that they are to never show their face. Whenever asked to take off their armor or why they do things the way they do, a Mandalorian’s response is always; “This is the way.”  

I wonder if the writers of the Mandalorian knew what 2020 had in store. I imagine that this series might help children feel safe and empowered behind masks. I have to admit that I hate masks, in fact I would rather get Covid for two weeks at its worst than to have to use a mask for the next year. The mask for me has caused discomfort, difficulty breathing, anxiety, and even facial irritation, and that is just on a personal level. Externally, it seems that in the past ten months we have been dehumanizing one another, name calling and lumping everyone into groups of “selfish,” “reckless,” or “self righteous”. The masks have become more of a symbol for individuals to identify where they stand in this pandemic as opposed to a simple aid in preventing the spread of a virus. Masks have become a dividing line for many, and perhaps given confidence to others to fight battles they otherwise wouldn’t fight. For me the mask represents oppression, I would shut up and deal with it if the statistics made sense and showed that they were in fact preventing the spread. Instead, the mask has become a power trip, a moral high ground, an anxiety inducer, and an obligatory pain in the butt for so many. This is the way.  

mask on during preaching

This past Sunday was the first time our church gathered (legally) since last March. My husband had to sign an agreement with the government of Argentina back in March. The agreement basically stated that he had been informed of the new laws and that the church could be fined and shut down should they fail to comply with the laws (holding worship was against the law at the time). The laws are constantly changing and as of recent we have been allowed to reopen the church under certain limitations. There are several rules in place including; no more than 10 people in the church, the windows must be open, there must be a towel on the floor covered in bleach at the entrance, and accessible hand sanitizer. In addition, everyone must practice social distancing, and wear a mask (even the pastor, at all times). I expected this day to be a day of rejoicing as the body of Christ reunited and joined together under one head. Instead, it was rushed, due to a law mandating we allow 30 minutes of vacancy in the church between activities. I was going to take a stand and not go to worship since I didn't want to worship with a mask on but I recalled a valid point stating; "If you have an excuse for not going to church, you probably weren't going for the right reasons in the first place." I felt out of breath saying the Lord’s prayer and creed behind a mask, my mouth and skin have been breaking out which makes it even more uncomfortable. We are getting into summer so we are all uncomfortably sweating behind our masks. What should be a time focusing on the Word of God and a time to boldly confess Christ and the many and various ways He has and continues to care for us, has become a pageantry of “who wears it best” or rather; who is most faithful to God and government? The pastor is difficult to hear as the members fidget with their masks. We no longer see each other unveiled but hidden behind masks. The mask for me is representative of a law that has held back worshipers from enjoying hymns of praise without baited breath and to hear the word of God without strained and labored ears.  

After the worship I did as I have been doing for most of the pandemic, I put on my home congregation’s  worship service and I cleaned my kitchen. As each hymn I knew was played on the organ I sang at the top of my lungs unencumbered by the unsanitary, and ungodly piece of cloth I am required to wear in public but not in crowded restaurants. I sang as if the words we were singing should usher in the second coming of Christ. I sang as if by singing with God’s people our healing was being imposed upon us with far greater welcome than the imposition of all the laws put before us. I sang, remembering that we await a better country, that this is not all that there is. We sing together even though we are far apart recalling that one day, laws, borders, and governments shall be destroyed and we will live under Him in His kingdom and serve Him in everlasting righteousness, innocence, and blessedness forever. 

Come quickly, King of kings!

The King shall come when morning dawns and light triumphant breaks, When beauty gilds the eastern hills and life to joy awakes.

Not as of old a little child, to bear and fight and die, but crowned with glory like the sun that lights the  morning sky. 

Oh brighter than the rising morn when Christ, victorious, rose and left the lonesome place of death despite the rage of foes. 

Oh brighter than that glorious morn shall dawn upon our race the day when Christ in splendor comes and we shall see His face.

The king shall come when morning dawns and light and beauty brings. Hail, Christ the Lord! Your people pray: Come quickly, King of kings!

LSB 348

Cuties in the Middle

 My father used to tell me “There are always two sides to a story and somewhere in the middle is truth.” Do you remember the film “Precious?” To refresh your memory it was a film that came out in 2009. The synopsis of the film from the IMDB is as follows; “In New York City's Harlem circa 1987, an overweight,abused, illiterate teen who is pregnant with her second child is invited to enroll in an alternative school in hopes that her life can head in a new direction.”

I remember there being a viewing party for Precious in David commons when I was studying at CUNE. I remember thinking and feeling jolted for the content of the film. I watched “Cuties” last night, probably because many are yelling in indignation about the film. When I hear “Don’t do that” I automatically have to do it. I must say, I didn’t feel as jolted for the the content of Cuties as I did for Precious or for other films that were supposed to be for entertainment. 

I understand if as a Christian we believe it is our duty to bash potentially corrosive materials for the edification and the raising up of morals within society. After all, we are called to lift each other up with Pslams and hymns of praise. I would however encourage you to investigate what you are knocking down and examine yourself before judging something based only on what you have heard and not what you know.

Consider the book; “Reviving Ophelia- Saving the selves of adolescent girls.” American clinical psychologist; Mary Pipher wrote a book in 1994 including case studies of adolescent girls she would seein her office. In 2019 a new edition was released celebrating the 25th anniversary of her book (I would encourage you to read the interview for that book put out by NPR as it is very informative: (https://www.npr.org/2019/06/30/737478316/reviving-ophelia-turns-25). Mary Pipher brought to light the very things director and screen writer Maïmouna Doucouré was trying to bring to light in her movie “Cuties.” Yes, that is correct! The director and screen writer wasn’t some cheese puff stained pervert who gets off watching 10 year old girls twerking. The film was written and directed by a Senegalese woman raised in France. I would also encourage you to read her opinion piece put out by the Washington Post: ( https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/cuties-director-maimouna-doucoure-why-i-made-the-film/2020/09/15/7e0ee406-f78b-11ea-a275-1a2c2d36e1f1_story.html). 

In her opinion piece for the Post, Maïmouna Doucouré mentions that she was trying to address an issue in society that she hoped would stimulate a discussion and not be knocked down by a “cancel culture” mentality. She handled the film being careful and mindful of the young actresses even hiring psychologists to be on site to care for any needs of the crew. I would argue that Cuties is nothing more than a more contemporary investigation of what our young girls are being exposed to. It does not glorify young girls having sex and becoming sex idols. 

Things to consider before adopting a “Cancel culture” position on Cuties:

Know the culture- I recall while living abroad, seeing 3 year old children dancing quite suggestively. The parents laughed and made videos of the spectacle to share with friends. The children were mimicking what they saw in their culture without understanding. That is clearly depicted in the film. In addition for a French film, Cuties is quite clean (for a French film mind you). 

Know yourself- Why even bring this junk to light and watch an hour and half of some girls life falling apart at only 10? Because we live in a culture that needs to be entertained and chances are you wouldn’t watch a documentary. Do you enjoy Game of Thrones, Outlander, Weeds, Breaking Bad, Umbrella Academy or almost anything on Netflix these days? There are far more corrosive shows and films that we watch that disguise “grooming” as entertainment. I don’t know about you but I have to put limits on what I watch if I want to sleep well at night. My everyday life fills my head with enough things to fill my dreams with. Are you against the film? If so, is it based on facts and truths reflected in your personal life? 

Know the agenda by knowing the source:  (Netflix wasn’t the creator of this film even though they are responsible for streaming and presenting a lot of junk). The film takes place in France where there are different expectations and standards of public exposer (Think of all the historical art that everyone is exposed to on a daily basis). The film was born as a response to young girls dancing inappropriately in public and being objectified. The project was approved by the French government’s child protection authorities as it addressed a cultural issue, it was not a film to promote the behavior among young. This film did what it was supposed to in France, what makes the States different?   

I have to admit that I found the film interesting, not as entertainment but informative. There were the disturbing scenes that you have probably heard about where a 10 year old girl objectifies herself and tries to use her undiscovered sexuality to solve her life problems however, it is not glorified like you might think. Those disturbing scenes come with shame and disgust that is communicated in the responses of the other actors. It is depicted in all its brokenness and awkwardness of a prepubescent tween unwittingly mimicking what she sees in society. It isn’t as uplifting and cute as Troop Zero, but it touches on the real issues addressed in Reviving Ophelia. The film is depicting where grooming is coming from, I wouldn’t say it is the one doing the grooming.

I’m not advising you to go and watch this film, in fact I would encourage you to abstain especially if you don’t want to think about the way society and culture creeps in and robs children of their innocence. I certainly would not allow children to see it and I think the director of the film would agree. I am encouraging you to seek the middle by being informed. I am also encouraging my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ to remember what we are called to and what that means for how we interact with worldly things. Sometimes we cast down people who are fighting with us because we don’t understand their methods or the platform from which they stand. At the end of the day, as a Christian, I try to err on the side of edifying others with Biblical truth, however I know I have and do fail on a daily basis. Look up Colossians 3 or Ephesians 5 for meditation. 

Colossians 3:16

16 Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.

Alleluia's in Lent II (Never Forsaken)

It feels like fall here. My grandpa died in the fall of 2016 and my grandma died this past Monday. In my mind, they both died in the fall. Grandpa in September (fall in the States) and Grandma in March (fall in Argentina). My grandma was a God fearing woman and I know she is with her Lord. My heart does not mourn the victory she has gained in her death; she lived a long full life. My heart is heavy because I said goodbye to my baby on Monday as well. The day started with a loss and ended with a loss. We were ten weeks pregnant and looking forward to delivering this baby in what would have been fall in the States; spring in Argentina. I can get pretty lost in time here in Argentina. I have to remind myself what month we are in and the weather often betrays me. We are hot in December and cold in July. I suppose my baby was a little confused too and didn’t realize that it was supposed to wait until it would be fall in the states, not in Argentina. 

I was excited about our timeline. I was already anticipating bringing our family back to the states in October to celebrate Octoberfest, halloween, my sister’s birthday and the new baby’s first birthday. I was getting the house ready to fit one more tiny human. I was planning how to tell family and friends. I was not anticipating another miscarriage, especially with every day of progress. It is such a cruel thing to loose a child in the first trimester especially when all the symptoms of early pregnancy are the worst and we endure and push through with the hope of holding a child at the end. My timeline for the next seven months was all set. It is hard to believe that God had a different timeline that includes my suffering. It is hard to believe because I don’t believe that He does that, His timeline is not so sadistic. I have to believe that my suffering will one day give birth to joy even if I can’t see it now.  

I’m no better at this than I was with my first miscarriage. I don’t really even feel any wiser. A great difference between my first miscarriage and this one is that I feel more supported this time. It can be hard to reach out and tell people what is going on when you know that the road to joy could take a sharp left and leave you at a dead end of grief. Yesterday a missionary friend checked up on me regularly all day. Last night I cried with my parents, my aunt, and my sister. This morning I found messages from my brother and sister-in-law. My husband held me, and my daughter wiped away my tears and told me not to cry. I hugged my sweet little girl and remembered God’s mercy in the midst of my last miscarriage and the joy He gave us in our sweet little Evangelina. I recall His promises and His faithfulness and I feel peace. My soul still mourns and magnifies the Lord at the same time.  My spirit longs for restoration and rejoices in God my Savior. Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! 

Revelation 21:4 New King James Version (NKJV)

4 And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.”

Picture of my mom caring for her mom in her last days (because I don't have any pictures of the baby) 

I look to the Cross.

I remember in Seminary when the head of the library was orienting us to how the Library on campus worked. He made a joke saying; “If you are looking for periodicals, all you have to do is just as King David did when he said; I look to the hills, where comes my help.” He then pointed to an impressive amount of boxes stored above the book shelves. That pairing of scripture with something that frightened me; research, calmed my anxieties and made the task seem less daunting. I love libraries for the solitude and peace they can offer, but the insurmountable information they contain can be daunting. 

Very recently, the Latin American Lutheran community has been mourning the death of a beloved shepherd. A Venezuelan pastor was murdered in a way that can only be described as horrific and at the hands of pure evil. The news has shaken many and saddened all within the Lutheran community. The amount of unanswered questions is terrifying. 

Much of Latin America is suffering economic crisis but the forerunner and the country suffering the most is Venezuela. Due to economic and governmental crisis, it is difficult to say why a Lutheran pastor may have been a target, but the pastor isn’t the only target. The church at large in Venezuela is under attack. “Strike the shepherd and the sheep will scatter.” Matthew 26:31. 

Sin becomes a concoction to remedy fear and pain for living in a society where daily bread is hard to come by. Many have found refuge in other countries waiting, praying, and helping from afar for the remnant. There is a great rising of fear and confusion when a pastor is lost in such a way. This is the second Lutheran pastor I have learned about having been murdered in the past four years. How could God allow this to happen? Doesn’t the Psalmist promise that The LORD will be our keeper and that He will preserve us from all evil? 

Something I know I have taken for granted is the luxury of my faith. We preach against the theology of glory, but in my mind there is a little voice that says; “be faithful to God and He will be faithful to you.”  The problem with that is my own interpretation of God’s faithfulness to me and to others. The Lord is our keeper; the keeper of our soul. He has called dear Pastor Luis Coronado into eternal rest. He holds the souls of all believers in Him. While evildoers can hurt us and take our lives and our bodies, the Lord of all creation still holds us within His care. While we may cry for justice, we must remember and hold fast, knowing that the battle is the Lords. He will have His justice. Please pray for the family of our sainted brother and Pastor; Luis Coronado, pray for all pastors fighting to feed the flock in Venezuela. Pray for Venezuela and all her leaders. Pray that God would preserve us all in these later days, and call us to look to Him and His suffering endured for us. Our help truly does come from the Lord. 

Christ is Risen! 

Psalm 121 

I will lift up my eyes to the hills—

From whence comes my help?

2 My help comes from the Lord,

Who made heaven and earth.

3 He will not allow your foot to [a]be moved;

He who keeps you will not slumber.

4 Behold, He who keeps Israel

Shall neither slumber nor sleep.

5 The Lord is your [b]keeper;

The Lord is your shade at your right hand.

6 The sun shall not strike you by day,

Nor the moon by night.

7 The Lord shall [c]preserve you from all evil;

He shall preserve your soul.

8 The Lord shall preserve[d] your going out and your coming in

From this time forth, and even forevermore.

"I GOT YOU MAMA"

Within the past few days our sweet little pumpkin has taken to saying “I got you!” and it isn’t as if she were playing hide and seek, she says it in a consoling manner. The other day I was walking with her and she asked to be picked up. I lifted her up, she rested her head on my shoulder and said; “I got you mama.” Her tone was the same as when she says “I love you.” They were words I needed to hear and be reminded of. 

It’s difficult sometimes to remember that what you have been called to is all of life’s daily tasks; the mundane and the memorable. I often feel forgotten in Argentina and I don’t think it is a feeling unique and isolated to my station and place in life. I believe we all feel forgotten or meaningless at times. I believe we all need the gentle head rest of a child and the a tiny voice saying; “I got you.” 

It wasn’t just the way my daughter said “I got you” it was the fact that she learned it from me. She said it because it is what I am constantly saying to her. When she bumps her head or faces a world full of emotions that she has never experienced before, I scoop her up and say; “I got you my honey bunny.” I imagine we all run around tending to the needs of others like it is the most important thing on our to-do list and it takes those gentle reminders to show us that what we are doing for others, they are also doing for us. My daughter might not change my diaper, feed me and bathe me, but I find purpose in her. I find meaning, and that doesn’t mean that everyone needs a two year old to have that. I find my vocational joy in Eva even though at the same time I think I might want a more “meaningful” task like writing books full time, feeding the hungry, teaching our world’s future leaders, or even saving the world from destruction and catastrophe. 

Eva’s gentle touch and words remind me that it is enough and she does in deed “got me.” and God gave her to me. More than that, God has me. He holds me within the palm of His hand in a way that reminds me that no matter how insignificant I might feel or think that I am, He remains present and active in my life. He is mindful of even my most mundane days. Sometimes, when my husband reminds me of how God cares for me I scoff and think; “I’m pretty sure God has more important things to be mindful of than my petty problems.” The truth is; He does, but that doesn’t stop Him from loving and caring for us. If there is one thing my isolation has taught me it is that God is ever present and ever caring in majestic ways veiled in the mundane. He is mindful of me, He is mindful of you and He’s got us.  

Isaiah 46:3-4 (NKJV)

“Listen to Me, O house of Jacob,

And all the remnant of the house of Israel,

Who have been upheld by Me from birth,

Who have been carried from the womb:

Even to your old age, I am He,

And even to gray hairs I will carry you!

I have made, and I will bear;

Even I will carry, and will deliver you.

Someone's Choice

When I started consulting with peers for writing the book “Never Forsaken” I was asked by a dear friend if I had considered including the topic of “abortion.” I awkwardly laughed and tried to gently explain that this would be a book dedicated to miscarriage not abortions. After taking a moment to consider the source, a better response came to mind and I asked her; “Why do you think abortion should be included?” Her explanation got me to think a little bit differently about my pain with miscarriage and how it might relate to those who chose to terminate a pregnancy.

When I was pregnant with my firstborn, the doctor gave me a little booklet that he took a moment to fill out at his desk before handing it to me. It was a mini medical booklet with significant medical history to help whatever doctor was tending to me during my pregnancy. The first part of the booklet asked for the mothers previous pregnancies. My doctor had marked that this was my second pregnancy and that the first was terminated due to a “spontaneous abortion.” The last thing I wanted was my lost child to be associated with that word; “abortion” especially for all the negative connotation it carries. As the debate continues I keep thinking that the source of the battle isn’t just in law making and choices, it also lies in reminding women connected to that word; “abortion” that they are still beloved children of God despite choices made.  

With all the hubbub and commotion with “Walk for Life” and in contrast, new laws that have passed in New York with regards to abortion; I wonder how much are we trying to understand the women who make the choice to terminate a pregnancy. I believe there is a whole group of women out there who feel persecuted, judged, condemned and believe me when I say, they have a deep grief that goes unshared and unspoken. We need to be clearer in how we talk and condemn abortion. We condemn the laws that are passed and those who gleefully support the passing of those laws, not the women who fall prey to

believing they do in fact have to make a choice. We condemn the brainwashing of a culture, that tells women “you have a choice” when in reality it pushes them into thinking that they really don’t have any other choice apart from abortion. 

The majority of abortions occur because motherhood poses an inconvenience, I suppose at the very least we are recognizing the full time task being a mother entails, and that it is in fact a selfless calling. I wonder how many lies a woman has to tell herself to find consolation for making the choice to terminate a pregnancy. Ladies and gentlemen, there is a mass amount of people out there mourning the “choice” they thought was the only choice they had. There are mothers who are mourning the loss of a child silently because at the end of the day, grieving would just be admitting that you made the wrong choice. Can you imagine loosing a child and not being able to express regret not only for the judgement that would fall upon you at your own hand but also by the hands of others? 

I believe most women who have abortions are broken inside just like all of us, they just tend to be a little better at hiding it. I think most women who have abortions are sad and longing for a better way out but they can’t see it. I am convinced that most women who have abortions aren’t thinking about women’s rights when they go in to terminate a pregnancy. I assume that most women who have abortions are mothers broken down by the standards of a society that says; “having children will ruin your life and destroy your dreams.” I believe that most women who have abortions think a lot about what life would be like if they never had to make the choice they did make. I believe that most women who have abortions think about if they did in fact make the right choice. Finally, I believe that women who have abortions carry a heavy burden for making a choice that they then have to deal with the consequences alone. 

Choices are nice to have, but it seems like we aren’t offering much of a choice but a forced push off a cliff. I believe that women who have abortions are redeemed, loved, and can find peace in Christ. Much like a mother who has lost a child to miscarriage, I believe that most women who have abortions long for a day of total restoration. I believe that they deserve to grieve in a safe place and hopefully one day they can find the voice to serve as an example for others. Hopefully one day they can be an example that shows how sometimes making a choice isn’t a right or liberty, but an enslavement to something else. Let’s not forget the mothers of the children lost to abortion because I am certain that most of them are hurting too and in a much more deafening void of silence. 

Psalm 130:3-6 English Standard Version (ESV)

3 If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities,
    O Lord, who could stand?
4 But with you there is forgiveness,
    that you may be feared.

N 

5 I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
    and in his word I hope;
6 my soul waits for the Lord
    more than watchmen for the morning,
    more than watchmen for the morning.

https://www.cph.org/p-32050-never-forsaken-gods-mercy-in-the-midst-of-miscarriage.aspx

Bunny Soft Toilet Paper

Recently my beloved (Roberto), my darling (Evangelina) and I all traveled north for a few weeks to escape the winter. After having been home a while, I have begun to reflect on the things I miss the most from my old family homestead. I’m not sure if I ever knew “soft toilet paper” quite like the toilet paper my parents had in their home for this visit. It might have been an improvement that came over the years while I was away or perhaps it was one of the many changes they made with their recent remodeling. My parents are now purchasing generic toilet paper that they buy in bulk and hold on stock in their home. It is the softest toilet paper I have ever used! My husband put it most accurately in stating; “It’s like wiping your butt with a bunny,” lovely thought.
For the first few weeks of our visit, Evangelina and myself were nursing a horrible cold with runny noses, and for my little darling it included many tears. Bunny soft toilet paper came in quite handy. I blew my nose so much and yet I never got an irritated nose like I normally get for blowing my nose so much. I spent the majority of my time with wadded up balls of humid bunny soft toilet paper in my pockets and in my purse. When it came time for us to return to the south, many tears were shed. Bunny soft toilet paper was used to wipe away the many tears that were shed.
Upon arrival at our first destination on our journey south I took my daughter and husband to the family bathroom to change Evangelina’s diaper (an amenity I took advantage of as often as I could in the U.S.). As I wadded up the old diaper to throw it away I fell apart in a sobbing mess. My husband threw me a confused look and said ever so compassionately with one eyebrow raised; “Really? Now?” I grabbed the nearest absorbing material I could find, which happened to be a sturdy paper towel.
Still clinging to the old soiled diaper, I thought about how the last diaper change that my daughter had was from my mom in Nebraska. I started thinking about how my mom changed my daughters very first diapers in the hospital since I couldn’t move after having had Evangelina. I thought about how the soiled diaper in my hand would be the last diaper my mom would have put on Evangelina (the next time we get to see each other Evangelina will most likely be potty trained). Clinging to the diaper even tighter and holding myself up on the changing table I began to sob uncontrollably. A wet mess of tears and snot, I grabbed a few more paper towels and wiped away at my face. If I were an avid scrapbooker I might have given a fleeting thought to saving the soiled diaper.
My loving husband didn’t know if he should laugh at me or cry with me. What he did do was say; “I don’t get it! What happened?” As I continued to wipe tears and snot away with the paper towels I wondered how I could explain the depth of sadness, regret, and ache a soiled diaper caused me and I summed it up into the following words; “I miss bunny soft toilet paper!” With those words, I showed him the rough, soggy, un-absorbent paper towel with one hand and threw the old diaper away with the other. We both laughed and hugged each other in the moment realizing that there is a lot to miss from home, and there was so much more to be thankful for.
Bunny soft toilet paper oddly reminds me that while there is a lot to miss, nothing compares to the people I miss. As I told my husband; “I know I will see them again, I don’t mourn loosing them, I mourn the moments in the year we don’t get to share together. I mourn the birthdays, the Christmases, the Easters, and the mundane Mondays with my family.” Even so, I am so thankful for every moment we did get to share with my family. They were moments that were treasured all the more for all the lost moments that we don’t get to share. I especially cherished the two Communions I was able to share with my family. Each worship was a celestial moment where I was strengthened and reminded that despite the distance, we share every Sunday when we share in the Lord’s Supper. Until we are reunited, I cling to the Lord’s promise to unite us in His Word and through His gifts. I know I will see them again. I cry for the earthly things and rejoice for the celestial promise that one day we will never have to part.

“Let us praise the Word Incarnate, Christ, who suffered in our place. Jesus died and rose victorious that we may know God by grace. Let us sing for joy and gladness, seeing what our God has done; Let us praise the true Redeemer, Praise the One who makes us one.” LSB 849 (Hope Publishing Co. 1987)