Preacher: Todd Peperkorn
Text: Ezekiel 36:22-28
Source: YouTube

Video

https://youtu.be/_Yo1TzEcduk

In the name of Jesus.

How can a people who have completely failed God still belong to him? That is the question for today.

The people of Israel lie under judgment. They are on the brink of exile, scattered, despairing. Suffering from their own sin, their self-inflicted wounds abound. Their idolatry, it would seem, knows no end. They have, in the words of Ezekiel, a heart of stone.

Suffering, you see, whether it be self-inflicted or not, suffering brings with it shame and isolation. Like an injured dog — you don’t want to touch an injured dog. Even if they’re trying to help you, they will bite. Like the abuser who was themselves abused, the wounds that they have, that we have, cause our own hurt. And there is always this part of us, this heart of stone, that wants to lash out, that wants to cause the very harm that we have suffered. Jesus himself put it this way in Matthew 24: “Because lawlessness will be increased, the love of many will grow cold.” It is like we have a spiritual rigor mortis. We are the dead, and we do not love as we ought.

So how is it then — because that describes Israel, but it also describes you and me — how is it that God would restore us? Or maybe not even how. Maybe the question really is why? Why would God want to restore his people? What even makes them his people at this point? For that is the question that our own sin forces us to ask again and again and again. Do I belong here? Should I inherit the land, the place that God has set aside for his holy people? Are we really his holy people at all?

God answers this question when he says, “It is not for your sake, O house of Israel, that I am about to act, but for the sake of my holy name, which you have profaned among the nations.” God’s holiness, his enduring character, shapes who he is and therefore what he does. God’s character is love, it is mercy. And so even though he hates the sin and the sinner, he loves the sinner.

And so he takes the heart of stone, of deadness, this rigor mortis that has set in upon us, and replaces it with a heart of flesh. He breaks up this stone and washes us clean, and puts this heart of flesh in you and me, and cleanses and enlivens and puts his Spirit upon you. For you were washed. You were born again. In the face of suffering, God does not isolate us and hide us away and lock us up in the hopes that maybe someday we’ll get our act together and then he’ll trot us back out again. But rather God covers you with himself. He clothes you with his righteousness. He washes you. He gives you a clean heart. He does not cast you away, but rather he draws you in.

And he invites you, who have that heart of flesh now, to look at those around you — not as the sinners who simply deserve death because of their sin, but the sinners for whom Christ died and rose again. For that heart of flesh which he has now given you means that your heart beats not for yourself, but for all of those for whom Christ died. So live. Be clean. Be free. Be the people of God. Come to his holy place and be cleansed, so that you may be a blessing to many.

In Jesus’ name. Amen.

January 29, 2026

Memento

[I wrote the first draft of this article back in November when this all started. I’ve been noodling and thinking about it since then, as well as talking with various colleagues here at CTSFW. What I express here are my own thoughts on this, and I hope they are taken in the spirit of brotherhood in which they are intended. My friend and classmate, David Petersen, wrote an article for Gottestblog on the topic HERE. I would encourage you to read it, as there you will get a more positive take on the matter. —TAP]

It is en vogue to have men’s groups or men’s ministries in congregations. It is also common for these groups to take on a life of their own, separate from the regular liturgical life of the church. The most recent of these is Memento, but others have included the Sons of Solomon (2021), the Men’s Network of Lutheran Hour Ministries (2009), and even back to Promise Keepers, founded by Bill McCartney in 1990. You could probably make an argument that the Lutheran Layman’s League was one of the early such groups, as well as the Boy Scouts of America. This has been a steady presence in the American Christian para-church scene for decades.

We have also seen a rash of books on the topic of men and Christianity, from Missing From Action: Vanishing Manhood in America to the more recent Man Up. The recognition and commentary on what it means to be a man is a continual source of conjecture. This is particularly true thanks to the rise of feminism and the assault on biological norms for what it means to be male and female.

I don’t have a problem with the concept of saying that men are different than women (duh), and that there is a spiritual and physical element missing in contemporary life, which hits men in particular. I have seen this need for decades as a parish pastor. In some respects, it is yet another facet of the loss of community and place that has been eroding in the West since the Industrial Revolution.

Memento is trying to help this decay, to stem the tide, and to give order, structure, fraternity, and a sense of place to a generation that is in desperate need of all of these things. I support this and believe our collective efforts as a church to reflect upon and provide positive guidance are a good thing. Prayer, discipline, Scripture, and brotherhood are all elements that have been a part of the pattern of Christianity for millennia. In that regard, I commend Pastor Bryan Stecker and the other leaders at Memento.

The question is whether Memento and movements like it are the right way to build the spiritual foundation of the Christian faith.

The Memento website and promotional materials do a good job of outlining what they aim to do. It is carefully thought out by numerous pastors whom I know and respect very much. Despite this, my “Lutheran radar” has gone off in a serious way. Here are my concerns:

A spiritual enterprise that is unrelated to the local congregation or the home

As one of the founding pastors of Higher Things, I am acutely aware of the blessings and the dangers of what I will call parachurch organizations. Like Higher Things, they can accomplish much, things that the local congregation cannot do on its own, or at least not easily. We could look at organizations like the Luther Academy or the Lutheran Heritage Foundation to see other examples of faithful, confessional organizations doing great work together for the sake of the Gospel.

But there is a danger. The danger is that the farther away the mission of the organization is from preaching and the Sacraments (AC VII & VIII), the more likely it is to lose its moorings and drift into dangerous waters.

Spiritual discipline in the Lutheran Church has always been tied to the Altar, the Font, and the Pulpit. The home is, in that respect, an extension of the gathering of the congregation around Word and Sacrament. We don’t have a distinct tradition of spiritual formation that is separate from pastoral care, the life of the congregation, and the home. In this regard, I would argue that schools (from elementary through college) are really an extension of both church and home. Seminaries are an extension of the church.

So, what does it mean to have spiritual disciplines that are expected and practiced, yet unrelated to the concrete practice of the local church? Daily prayer, meditation on the Word, fasting, and almsgiving have historically been part of the life of the local congregation. They flow from faith and lead to love of God and love for the neighbor. In advocating for spiritual practices that are not rooted in the local community, I am deeply concerned that such practices are divisive and will create a perspective that there are Christians and there are “serious Christians” who do certain spiritual disciplines that may or may not be commanded in Scripture, and not regularly practiced by the local congregation.

In a similar way, spiritual disciplines that are not ordered around the family may be good, but they may also become self-chosen works that interfere with serving your neighbor. I am thinking about a daily check-in with your “anchor,” and a weekly check-in with your group. There is some allowance for online meetings, but given the site’s apparent aversion to technology, I’m sure the preference is for in-person meetings. My wife and I have raised four children. The thought of adding a meeting a week and saying “it will be good for our family” seems incredibly, um, aspirational to me. I expect I am not the target audience here. ## I desire mercy and not sacrifice… Closely related to the above is the fact that there is nothing really in the movement that is oriented outward, toward the well-being of the neighbor.

We could be discussing the simple practice of almsgiving (which is strangely absent), but in a broader sense, there appears to be very little that focuses on the good of the community, whether it be the family or the congregation.

I am concerned that while each of the individual pieces of the program/movement may be fine, when taken together, it is creating an alternate reality that is not centered on love of God and love of the neighbor.

The intermingling of biblical mandate and human wisdom

The Scriptures are filled with both command and wisdom. Some things are necessary, for example, the Ten Commandments. Other things are clearly not commanded, such as circumcision, keeping kosher laws, wearing head coverings, or the language used in worship. This is clearly covered in FC 10, but it is also made clear in many places throughout both the Scriptures and the Book of Concord. There are practices in the Lutheran church that have come and gone at different times. Wisdom is learning what is necessary, and what may be good or bad depending on the circumstances and the needs of those around us.

I understand that this is a voluntary organization. However, because its goals and practices are rooted in the Scriptures at least in part, we need to be discerning about what is necessary and what might be beneficial given the circumstances.

Take the practice of fasting. Fasting is an ancient practice that has biblical roots. It has been part of the Christian tradition from the very beginning. I have written in favor of fasting numerous times, HERE for example. But despite its long history, it is not necessary. It may be a good idea (see AC XXVI and XX), but the minute it becomes compulsory, it can become very dangerous. It cannot burden the conscience. If it is an external discipline that goes along with repentance (Ap XII), then it is well and good. As we say in the Small Catechism, “Fasting and bodily preparation is certainly fine outward training, but…” When discussing the training and formation of young men, it is extremely important that discipline is always accompanied by compassion. Otherwise, we simply create a caste system in the church.

Another wisdom question is technology. While some of the Memento materials are behind a paywall, one certainly gets the impression that technology is considered one of the great problems of modern man. They are not wrong. I believe that by ‘technology,’ they really mean social media, particularly phones. The answer appears to be that there is no use of technology outside of work or school. This goes along with the general disdain for “entertainment” one finds on the site. Again, the fact that we are in an overindulgent, overstimulated society is beyond question. Perhaps the answer is to go cold turkey. Unless you are listening to podcasts, of course.

A part of a larger history

The spiritual disciplines of fasting, prayer, and almsgiving are the legacy and heritage of the Church, particularly the monastic movement as they have been expressed in Western Christianity. At its best, groups like Memento may tap into that history and tradition. But with that expression comes all of the dangers that Luther and the Reformers warned of in the sixteenth century. Discipline apart from mercy becomes legalism. Solitude apart from the sacramental life of the church becomes isolation. “Doing hard things” for their own sake quickly becomes self-righteousness. It is hard for me to envision having different “tiers” of membership and that not creating competition and division.

One only needs to look at the Exodus 90 movement in the Roman Catholic Church to see how this plays out. It has, in many respects, been a good movement and has helped countless men find purpose and community. It has also been fraught with accusations of commercialism, going around the pastoral care of the individual, and of even radicalizing men when they are in a vulnerable state. It is hard to miss the obvious comparisons between Exodus 90 and Memento 70.

This is also part of a men’s movement that gained significant traction in the 1980s, largely in response to the feminist movement. The Mythopoetic movement has a peculiar history that is intertwined with Jungian archetypes, nineteenth-century Romanticism, and the New Age movement. However, it is also an undeniable part of the cultural phenomenon of men seeking their way in a nihilistic society. Read Ian MacKenzie’s article on the renaissance of this movement. Memento is part of this broader movement about men over the past couple of generations, whether they are aware of it or not.

I firmly believe that we need to cultivate genuine friendships among men of goodwill. There is ample evidence to support this, particularly in the post-COVID era. I see this all the time here at CTSFW. Time and time again, it is the brotherhood of soon-to-be pastors that defines the experience. The question is whether Memento and similar movements are the right way to replicate the fraternity of pastors.

How about attending Bible class together at your local congregation? How about simply having and fostering friendships, which may include some of these spiritual disciplines? How about ordering things like prayer and meditation on the Word around the natural home of the household, rather than around volunteer friendships that may come and go in different seasons of life? Adding a once-a-week “check-in” sounds like a great way to add more burden on my wife. Is that really the goal?

There is an older movement in Lutheran history that sought to create deeper spiritual ties and connections. It had disciplines, regular check-ins and meetings, and was focused on the Christian life almost to the exclusion of the life that is to come. It focused on secondary disciplines and downplayed the public reading and hearing of Scripture, as well as the regular reception of the Sacrament of the Altar. It has been with us for hundreds of years, and every time it has manifested in a new form, the church has suffered.

That movement is called Pietism.

Perhaps my greatest concern with movements such as these men’s movements is that we are really talking about a repackaging of Pietism. If that is the case, then we will face significant trouble in the years to come. See Dr. Ronald Feuerhahn’s excellent article on Pietism for a taste of what I’m talking about.

Furthermore, I have questions about the money. $60 per year for “Founders,” and $90 per year thereafter. I couldn’t find any information on the website about what this money is for, who receives the payment, or the amount. I also cannot tell if Memento is a non-profit. But it troubles me that this is targeted at men in the 18-25 year range, and that is a significant cost outlay. Who benefits from this? As of this writing, more than 3,000 people are signed up. That is at least $180,000.

Conclusion

So if movements like this aren’t the solution, what is?

Go to church. Read your bible. Pray with your family. Teach the faith. Love your neighbor. Demonstrate hospitality. Show mercy to those in need and care for those who cross your path. In these things, you will be blessed.

I realize that is simplistic and may be perceived as sentiment by some. But if we have learned anything from the history of the Church, it is that movements that create more rules, even well-intentioned ones, most often end up compromising the Gospel.

Memento may ultimately prove to be a blessing to the church, particularly the men and congregations of The Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod. I hope it does. But if you are thinking that this is some great answer to all the problems which feminism and post-modernism have wrought, then get used to disappointment.

Todd A. Peperkorn, STM, DMIN

Dean of Spiritual Formation

Asst. Professor of Pastoral Ministry and Missions

Concordia Theological Seminary

Fort Wayne, Indiana

PS Another critique of Memento is from Pastor Jonathan Watt. He posted it on his Facebook page HERE.

Kramer Chapel

Concordia Theological Seminary

Feast Day of St. Timothy (2025-01-24)

1 Timothy 6:11-16

Dr. Todd A. Peperkorn 

TITLE: “Fight…with Gentleness”

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen. Our text today is from 1 Timothy chapter 6:1-12. 

One of the most enjoyable things, at least for me, about being on the faculty here is this wintertime tradition. Not Symposium—although that’s great, obviously. No, this is the wintertime tradition known as theological interviews. This is a unique tradition in our circles, at least in the Missouri Synod, where two professors gather with all of the fourth-year students, one at a time, and discuss theology with them for about an hour. I don’t know if my colleagues enjoy this as much as I do. I think it’s great. I’ll tell you about my TI some other time. I don’t think the students enjoy it quite as much as we do. Sometimes I firmly believe that we have a lot more confidence in their good confession than they do when they are going through this little exercise.

But these students don’t know something that we know—that the entire life of the pastor is one constant theological interview. The whole thing. Your words, your conduct, how you carry yourself, how people see you—all of it is the lens of the church looking upon this man. Now, if that doesn’t make you nervous, I don’t know what’s wrong with you. This is why, in Paul’s words to Timothy here—this young pastor, this new pastor in Ephesus, his son in the faith, his colleague on his travels—his encouragement and his words are remarkably strong. Paul uses words like “flee,” “pursue,” “fight,” “take hold,” “charge,” and “keep.” This language is not the language of softness. This is not the language that says, “Well, you’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.” This is the language of an elder pastor speaking to his young son in the faith, who knows what’s at stake. The very souls of God’s people are at stake. And these words—this life, this good confession, as St. Paul calls it—they matter.

Paul says a little bit earlier on in Timothy, “Do not be hasty with the laying on of hands.” So, the process of preparing, training, and forming pastors is not something that just happens with a snap. You don’t just get a warm feeling in your heart that God wants you to be a pastor, and then turn around and start preaching. It involves much fear and trepidation. Paul, too, uses this strong language, and I dare say almost battle language, warrior language, really, quite often. Think of Paul’s words to the church in Ephesus: “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood . . . Put on the whole armor of God.”

Yet, when it comes down to the virtues that Timothy is to embody as a pastor, we see a slightly different picture. Pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, steadfastness, and gentleness. Fight the good fight of faith . . . with gentleness. I don’t get it. These words do not gel. They do not naturally jive or make sense to us today. In our world, these two things are contrary. You either fight or you’re gentle. You’re either strong or you are weak. It’s one or the other. You can’t have both. Tell Jesus. For in our Lord, we find strength in weakness, confidence in the good confession before Pilate, even in the face of hardship. We find St. Paul encouraging young Timothy not to allow his youth to deter him from his good confession. We find Paul speaking over and over and over again to boast in Christ and not in yourself.

The church at Ephesus clearly was in the midst of no little controversy. We don’t know exactly what the context was for Timothy’s good confession that Paul encourages him in and reminds him of. I’m enough of a Fort Wayne guy to think it was probably Timothy’s ordination, but we don’t know that for certain. These two things that make the good confession of Timothy, Paul finally brings home in our Lord Jesus Christ, who made the good confession before Pontius Pilate, who, when He suffered, opened not His mouth. This confession—this speaking this same word together—is who our Lord is: the Word made flesh. And for that, He was crucified, died, and rose again for our justification.

There is no contradiction between the good fight of faith and for this to be done with gentleness. Any father should know this: that to be strong for your children, for your wife, for your family, sometimes means to be gentle. Maybe always. It’s worth thinking about. And if this is so for my own family, how much more so is this the case for the family of God? That when we care for, preach, make the good confession, and fight the good fight of faith, we do so not because our people are our enemies. For, as Paul said, we wrestle not against flesh and blood. It is Satan who is the enemy. And we make this good confession for the sake of those who are entrusted to our care.

So what about you, O man of God, who wrestles not against flesh and blood? Paul says again to Timothy, “Keep a close watch on yourself and on your teaching.” This calls us to recognize our own sins and bring us to repentance and faith. It calls us to continually go to the font, which is the Scriptures, to learn from Him and to give out the life-giving word of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. As we hear earlier in Timothy, “The aim of our charge is love that issues from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith.” That is what Paul charged Timothy to do and to be. That is what our Lord calls you to this day and every day.

It is a great and mighty thing that our Lord has entrusted to us. It is not something we can do of our own strength and power. But God is relentless in His mercy toward us, His children. His love knows no end. He will form you into the image of His Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. Believe it, for Jesus’ sake. Amen.

For a PDF version of this sermon, go here:

Twenty years ago today, we buried my mother, Susan Peperkorn, née Troy. She died on January 10, 2005. It was simultaneously sudden (likely brain aneurism) and expected (melanoma cancer). She was fifty-seven at the time and had been fighting cancer in various ways for at least ten years.

My family was in a very different place at that time. I was thirty-four, and we had two young girls while we lived in Kenosha, Wisconsin. None of my siblings were married yet, and my youngest sister was still in high school. It seems like a thousand years ago. But also just yesterday.

At this point, all of my siblings are married, and there are eleven grandchildren spread over four states. Our family continues to grow and be blessed.

This day twenty years ago was a turning point, though. It was a point when death became real in a way that hadn’t happened before. Grief became more visceral, more a part of me, and less what other people dealt with. I’ve never been an overly “emotive” person, but I am certainly much more so now than I was before.

Just as death became real, so, too, did resurrection and holy baptism. Through a series of events I won’t recount now, I ended up preaching for Mom’s funeral. The text was the Baptism of our Lord from St. Matthew, chapter three. In the center of that, too, is Paul’s wonderful words from Romans six:

My teacher and now colleague, Cameron MacKenzie, had a wonderful sermon baptism today in chapel. He reminded us that God and His gifts are for all nations, and that means everyone.

Baptism ties us to Jesus’ death AND resurrection. There is no resurrection without dying. My mother died in her baptism many years before. Her death and loss on this earth is not the death that matters. What matters is that she died in Christ, and because of that, she will rise again at the Last Day. That is where our hope lies.

Much love, Mom. We’ll see you soon.

Link to Renata’s Post on the Music

Audio of Sermon

TITLE: “Sing with the Spirit”

Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is. And do not get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery, but be filled with the Spirit, addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart, giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, submitting to one another out of reverence for Christ. —Ephesians 5:15-21 ESV

St. Paul was no stranger to the suffering and hardship we live under here on earth. He recognized the futile, empty ways that the world would have us live in, ways that would choke the very life out of us. We are surrounded by it on every side. God gives us the fulness of life in His Son, and we cast it aside for fleeting pleasures and empty promises that would have us give up our very souls for one more hit, one more distraction, one more stumble on the road to perdition.

It does not matter if your vice is social media or gossip, alcohol or sports drinks, lust or gluttony. Whatever the temptation might be for you, know that Satan seeks to draw you away from the Living Bread who gives His life for the world. We are, in so many ways, fools who have surrounded ourselves with the very things that would destroy us, thinking that we are stronger than all the Christians who have gone before. St. Paul is right. Truly, the days are evil.

So look carefully how you walk, St. Paul says, not as unwise but as wise. Be filled with the Holy Spirit, “…addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart.” St. Paul knows something that the world has forgotten. St. Paul knows that what drives away the devil, what gives life and joy, what makes sense in a world gone mad, what does all these things is music that carries the Word of God.

• When Moses parted the Red Sea and brought the people of Israel through on dry land, they sang.
• When Deborah and Barak defeated the forces of Canaan, they sang.
• When David calmed the troubled heart of Saul, he sang.
• When David repented of his great sin and shame, he sang.
• When Hezekiah restored the true worship of Yahweh in the Temple, they sang.
• When Job was about to perish, he sang.

In times of joy and sorrow, war and peace, plenty and famine, the people of God sang.

• When they were rounded up like cattle and carried off to Babylon, they sang.
• When they returned to Zion, and the Lord restored them, they sang.

And who can forget the great songs of our wondrous Messiah?

• When the angel announced the coming of John the Baptist, Zechariah sang.
• When John the Baptist leapt in his mother Elizabeth’s womb, Mary sang.
• When the Savior of the world was born, the angels of heaven sang.
• When Jesus was presented in the Temple, Simeon sang.
• When the children of Zion saw the Lord was in their midst, they sang.

Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord! But such singing is not only joy. It is also sorrow, comfort, and more than our hearts can ever express.

• When Hannah learned she was no longer barren, she sang.
• When the Exiles wept at the loss of their homeland, they sang.
• When the disciples went to the Mount of Olives with Jesus, they sang.
• When Jesus Himself was on the cross and dying, he sang.

At the very culmination of the ages, when the world ends and the new creation begins, heaven and earth will sing together, Worthy is the Lamb Who Was Slain.

For this reason, Martin Luther once said, “Next to the Word of God, the noble art of music is the greatest treasure in this world.” Or, as hymnwriter Martin Franzmann put it, “Theology must sing!” Music sanctifies our lives so that even when we suffer, we know that we never do so alone, for Christ and His holy Church are with us all the way.

As a pastor for many decades, I can attest to how the Word of God, carried along by the music of the Church, has shaped the piety and faith of generations. When the best and noblest of music is taught and fostered in the Church, faith grows where it is planted, sustains during times of drought and hardship, and bears us home to the bosom of Abraham (LSB 708:3).

I can remember singing Lord, Now Lettest Thou Thy Servant Depart in Peace at the bedside of more saints than I can count. And those words brought comfort and hope to those who grieved when no mere words could possibly break through. Music brights to light the heart’s need like nothing else can.

I can remember singing O God, O Lord of Heaven and Earth, at the very first Higher Things conference before your Kantor was even born. We were told that high schoolers can’t sing hard music. Bah. Watch them. Some of those same youth are now husbands and wives, pastors and teachers in our churches. I’ve talked to them.

I remember singing Behold a Host Arrayed in White with 98-year-old Linda Nergaard. She couldn’t have weighed 80 pounds sopping wet, and she would wander the hallways of her nursing home, so I had to always go hunt for her. I would start the hymn, and she would sing along in Norweigan. It may not have been the most beautiful harmony, and yet strangely, it was. We sang it at her funeral and many others.

I remember singing God’s Own Child, I Gladly Say It when a young boy in a wheelchair died. His pastor, well, one of YOUR pastors, preached that death cannot end our sadness, for we are baptized into Christ.

We could bring these to mind all day long. Every pastor could tell you stories like this. Get Pastor Berg started, and you’ll probably never get him to stop. But none of this is possible without churches like Trinity, Messiah, Holy Cross, Lamb of God, St. Paul’s, or whomever it may be. None of these would happen without those churches teaching the faith through the church’s song.

It takes work. It takes dedication. It takes patience. It takes starting with I am Jesus’ Little Lamb with the little ones and working your way up as they grow. It takes a congregation that is willing to let the little children come, for of such is the kingdom of God. If they do not learn it when they are young, they will not remember it when they can’t even remember their own name. It means teaching hymns they will grow into their whole life long, not just ditties they will grow out of.

Today Trinity installs a new Kantor. Kantor is just a $.53 word that means singer. A Kantor leads the church’s song. It doesn’t matter if it’s with a voice teaching the little ones or a mighty organ carrying our song of praise, it is still the song of the Lamb who died and rose again and now lives forevermore.

So welcome your new Kantor, the one who will lead you in song. I may be a little biased, but take care of her. You have a long line of musicians and kantors in this holy place, and she is honored to be in your midst. It is a testament to the work that God does here, nurturing and growing the faith of the people of God.

The world is evil, but you are wise. “…address(ing) one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart.” For in this Lord lies your salvation.

In the Holy Name of Jesus. Amen.

Dr. Todd A. Peperkorn

Trinity Lutheran Church, Sheboygan, Wisconsin

Installation of Renata Peperkorn as Kantor

August 18, 2024 (Proper 15b)

Ephesians 5:15-21

Today is the twenty-fifth anniversary of my ordination into the Office of the Holy Ministry.

This trip began as odd as one would expect. My colleague, Scott Stiegemeyer, and I were serving as admission counselors at Concordia Theological Seminary in Fort Wayne. It was just a few short months since Dean Wenthe was elected president. It marked the end of the so-called Babylonian Captivity of the seminary (1989-1996), and the beginning of a new era of renewal in the Gospel. CTWFW was desperate to get its recruitment back on track after several years of much smaller classes. Controversy is never good for the health of an institution, even if sometimes it is painfully necessary. Scott and I were both planning on doing STM work (he had already done so for a year), and so agreed to see what we could do to be of service.

It took about six months for all of the paperwork and stuff to get figured out before we were actually called. So in what I believe is the only instance of this happening in the LCMS until that time, we were ordained into the Office of Recruiting and Admissions. The service was in Kramer Chapel, and was comprised basically of the faculty, my pastor (Richard Radtke), and Scott’s pastor (Peter Ledic).

I remember quite vividly having a conversation with Prof. Kurt Marquart about what it meant to be ordained into this work, plus having a contract, but not really having an altar in any meaningful way. “Sometimes the church engages in felicitous inconsistencies,” he said while paraphrasing Pieper.

Since that time I’ve been blessed to serve two amazing congregations (Messiah in Kenosha, Wisconsin, and Holy Cross in Rocklin, California), We went through 9/11 and the Yankee Stadium debacle. I ended up suffering from major clinical depression, becoming suicidal, and going on disability for a year. My wife, Kathryn, and I have had four children, with two more in the bosom of Abraham. We spent the last ten years in Northern California, learning about being confessional Lutherans in a post-Christian society, and serving with some of the most amazing people anywhere. I also did a DMIN in preaching at the Aquinas Institute of Theology in St. Louis.

The past six months has brought us back to Fort Wayne, where I am now teaching pastoral counseling, field education, and homiletics, and also serving as the director of vicarage. It has allowed me to serve students and help prepare the next generation of pastors. So in some ways I guess I’ve ended up back right where I started.

My colleague, Scott, has served two parishes, been back at CTSFW in admissions, and is now teaching as Concordia University Irvine. One could never hope for a better friend or colleague in the Office.

What will the next twenty-five years bring? I don’t know. What I do know is that serving as a pastor is both cross and blessing. But it is Christ’s office, not mine. We are but unworthy servants.

Go and thank your pastor sometime. Hold him up. Share all good things with your teachers. And rejoice that the Lord of the Church uses such earthen vessels to bring about His holy purposes.

Soli Deo Gloria