Weedon's Blog

+ Melvin Sievers

2026-04-08T14:35:00.004-05:00

Wow. This one is so hard to write. A pastor is never supposed to have favorites in a congregation. Never. But, then there was Melvin. How could one help it? He and Lucille, Janice and Dean, such a staunch and strong family. I can say it, but with tears, I absolutely loved that man.

Where to even begin? The argument with the cow that landed him in the hospital? Him DEFENDING the wretched cow? Parkinson’s had stolen a bit of the old smile from his face, but not from his heart. Him asking: “You still eating just meat?” I had to confess that I wasn’t JUST meat anymore. But still LOTS of meat. He nodded his approval.

He was in his 90s in that hospital gown that doesn’t make for modesty. He was totally at peace. I wasn’t. I had been there it seems like an eon ago when his sweet mom, Esther, was passing. I remember reading to her the old prayers for the Gebetschatzbuch. I know that when we are approaching death, we tend to “go back,” as it were, to our youth. She grew up with German. Though, not in Gehlenbeck. The first time those three sisters registered to me, Wilma (of course!) informed me: “WE are not Gehlenbeck Sievers; WE are Braunschweig Sievers!”

I soon learned the difference. The Braunschweigers remained fast friends. Melvin and Lucille went on road trips with motorcycles with Elsie (Sievers) and Ed Ahrens. The now defunct little Braunschweig Church formed them in a robust and sturdy Lutheranism. No nonsense.

Melvin and Lucille’s daughter, Janice, has been a close friend since we came here. Our kids were the same age roughly. And, well, like her dad, she’s just a hoot. She makes me happy whenever we get the brief moment to catch up.

I remember when she told me her dad wasn’t doing well. Cindi and I were at 54th Street in Edwardsville, grabbing a bit to eat. I hoped to see him again, and was planning on going there the next day. He didn’t make it till the next day.

My father-in-law, Dave, always insisted on stopping along the last pew to shake hands with Melvin and chat for a bit. He thought the world of him, along with the rest of us.

I told Janice that when he arrived at last in the Kingdom, I’ll bet Sonny said: “Well, you sure took your sweet time, didn’t you? We’ve been waiting to get up a dart ball game!”

I could go on and on about that dear man. Just seeing him and Lucille always brought a smile to my face. I so look forward to being with him again, and not ever having to say goodbye. Pray for us, Melvin, that we stay faithful unto death as you did!

P.S. One more memory. It was shortly after Christmas. The choir was practicing before service. The sun was just rising over the horizon. I glanced out the door of the nave. Across the highway and across the field, an entire herd of deer was running across the field. I lost count of how many. I said to him: “We’re INSIDE ‘The Holly and the Ivy.’” He said: “Yup.” “The rising of the sun, the running of the deer, the playing of the merry organ, sweet singing in the choir.”

+ Dale Jones

2026-04-08T14:20:00.002-05:00

Oh, where to even begin? I’ve sung in her ear for years, because the basses sit right behind the altos. Even after the cancer diagnosis, as long as she could muster some energy, she was still climbing the stairs to the balcony and singing.

Music ran through her soul. And that’s why I think she so delighted in her grandson’s taking to the organ and showing a remarkable aptitude upon it.

When she wasn’t able to make it to choir anymore, on numberless choir rehearsals, Ann and Kantor called her up and asked if we could sing to her. Her response never varied: “Sure!” Sometimes we sang an old favorite choir piece, but more often than not just hymns.

She’d probably say: “Just hymns? Did you really say that?” For the hymns carry the whole comfort of the Gospel into the depths of our soul. I pity those who have never been given the chance to love them like Dale did.

She and Doc had the naughty habit of disappearing to Hawaii for several weeks during those unfortunate weeks of February (okay, I might have been a bit jealous). We always counted the days down till their return. But one year that didn’t happen. It was the first diagnosis of trouble. I think she still tried to sing all through that time. It reminded me of the old Shaker hymn:

“My life flows on in endless song above earth’s lamentation. I hear the real, though far off hymn, how can I keep from singing?”

THAT was Dale. She couldn’t keep from singing!

+ Leroy Renken

2026-04-08T13:54:00.002-05:00

I have so many of these to catch up on. I haven’t written much on the blog in ages. Leroy and Bev have just been part of life at St. Paul’s for a long, long time. I remember when we were going through a lean patch as far as finances go, and I was a bit worried about how things would turn out, Leroy was working on something or other there in the basement. He took me aside and told me: “Pastor, don’t you EVER believe that this Church doesn’t have the money to do whatever it needs to do.” That meant so much to me. I stopped worrying (well, sort of), and found out how very right Leroy was!

The man was nothing if not meticulous. He was a finishing carpenter, you see, and his attention to detail and making sure things were “just so” reflected a core component of his personality. I don’t think he tolerated “good enough” in any part of life!

These last few years have been tough. His health hasn’t been the greatest, as his earthly tent began to fray. Whenever I served at a liturgy, as he left I’d ask him how he’s doing. His standard reply became “I’m still here.” I knew what he meant. He was still alive, but didn’t feel like he was LIVING as he had always been accustomed to. And then Bev, ever the lady, would give me that heart-breaking smile of hers. It’s the long goodbye. He knew it. She knew it. And I think their beloved children and grandchildren also knew it.

It was Maundy Thursday that Stephanie wrote Cindi, trying to get a message through to Pastor to let him know that Leroy had had a stroke, a bad one, and that they couldn’t do anything to repair its damage. The other pastors on staff were all up front ready to begin the liturgy. I look a message down to Pastor right before the bell rang. I came back up to choir with a heavy heart. We only had two basses, but when the other bass if Pr. Daenzer? I told him I was heading out to the hospital.

Weird thing: they MOVED SLU hospital since the last time I was there. I marveled at getting a good parking spot and then headed over, only learn that I needed to huff it about two or three blocks. I did so, and after a little wait, was shown back to Leroy’s room. It was a blessing to pray with that dear man the commendation of the dying. As I sang the Nunc Dimittis, I think I heard Bev, Ann, and Stephen joining in. The long goodbye was coming to a close. He made it through till Easter, though, and then as Pastor Ball preached so comfortingly today, he opened his eyes to his risen Lord and began to experience the fulfillment of all God’s promises.

He was always so proud of his grandkids, but Cole was the one I actually got to know. I usually rib the lad about not carrying his horn with him all the time (he is a GREAT trumpeter). The look on his face today as he left said it all: he loved his grandpa and his grandpa loved him, and there will be a hole in his heart for the rest of his days.

St. Paul’s carries a bit of that hole too. We’ll remember Leroy, the precise man. Leroy, the quiet man. Leroy, the faithful worshipper who loved his Jesus. Can’t wait to see you again, my friend. Christ is risen!

+ Lois Sander

2026-04-07T14:12:00.005-05:00

I sure never thought my next post on this blog would be this one. Rest eternal grant her, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon her!

When my inlaws moved to town, she and Marvin, Marilyn and Gary, befriended them and played cards and dominoes with them. Eventually, it was only Lois and Dave left of that crew. They became very fast friends. They both had children in Maryland, so they made the trip together a few times.

Lois was the 3-4 grade teacher at our parish school when I arrived here in 1992. She would not retire before she had taught all my children. I remember being a little worried about my son’s distractedness. She told me “There’s nothing wrong with that boy. He’ll be fine.” She said that they would be talking about something in class, and she could see that she had lost him. Finally, his hand would shoot up and he’d ask about something they had covered 20 minutes prior. The class would collectively groan, but she said he’d required time to think about it. She was right. He was fine.

She was thrilled, I think, that Lauren followed her into the teaching vocation. And when Bekah and Andy adopted Kloe and Emmett, she couldn’t have been more thrilled. She attended their Baptisms and commented to me all the time on Kloe in particular: what a wonderful young lady she had become.

She was like a grandma to all my children’s children. She came to nearly every single family event. And during the horrible days of COVID, she was in our pod. She, Dave, Cindi and I played more games of Liverpool than any of us (except Dave) wanted! Lois always hated hand number four, where she frequently got clobbered. And she didn’t like it when the jokers didn’t come her way! Most Sundays we had brunch at the house, she joined us.

She worked nonstop at our parish. Confirmation banners? That was her specialty. Dinners for funerals? She always had something cooked and helped with serving. Sewing up LWML quilts? I think she’s still got a ton of material in her house. Oh, it never stopped. She seemed to have a PLACE there at St. Paul’s and it’s going to be really wretched to be there without her.

I’ll not forget, either, the horrid day her niece, Rachel, died giving birth. She and Marvin were just leaving when Pr. Burdick called and I had to run out and break that unthinkable news to them. We prayed together and wept together that day.

She was so proud of her two boys, and she had every right to be. They both flew into town and spent all her final hours with her. She was blessed not only in David and Jonathan, but in Maggie and Sanna, and the very joy of her life, her grandchildren: Charles, Anya, and Eric. She was proud of Charles sticking up for Lutheranism at his Catholic High School, and then when he went to Notre Dame, she wore a shirt with their logo and made it up for some of the games. She could tell you all about Anya’s not taking nonsense from anyone in soccer, and about Eric’s brilliant and inquisitive mind. All three of the grandchildren inherited MORE than their fair share of smarts from their ridiculously talented parents, and she was so, so proud of them. And she delighted in the way her boys constantly teased each other: Jonathan sending David pictures of snakes and David sending Jonathan pictures of spiders. And how many times did she quote her mother-in-law to us? “I’m just sitting here so you all can have a game.”

Lois, you will be sorely missed. You were such a good friend to us all. I can’t wait to see you again!

I got to talk about Lutheran Advent Music…

2025-12-04T09:31:00.001-06:00

…with journalist Terry Mattingly. Here’s the article he wrote: The Need for Advent Music Playlists

Scenes from a Winter’s Day

2025-12-03T15:47:00.001-06:00

Well, you know…

2025-11-26T15:22:00.003-06:00

…it only took, what?, six years for me to finally figure out that having ethernet in my study would be a good thing. Got it done today, thank you Madisontelco. Cindi and I love to sit in here in the evenings, and it is such a delightful work space: small and cozy, but quite peaceful. And I just love writing at the table that sat on my grandmother’s back porch and where we shared many a meal as a family.

P.S. YES, the rug is off center due to the electric fireplace. And YES it bothers me every single day.

Thanksgiving Feast (for Jaime)

2025-11-26T15:08:00.004-06:00

Dear Northern Brother, this is the menu this year:

Pre-feast

Deviled eggs (half plain, half topped with smoked salmon)

Various cheeses and cheese balls and crackers

Feast

The usual turkey smoked on grill

Gravy (both regular and also a carnivore version)

Rope sausages

Twice baked mashed potatoes

Sautéed mushrooms and bacon (in a wine reduction)

Broccoli casserole

Sweet tater casserole

Cranberries

Homemade light rolls

After-feast

Pumpkin pie

Apple pie

Chocolate pie

Dark Chocolates

Pecan pie

Beverages

Whiskey, Wines, Water, Coffee served with various liqueur options, and Kid’s “wines”

This year, we should be serving 20 or so.

Homily for the Last Sunday of the Church Year 2025

2025-11-23T14:51:00.000-06:00

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

People loved by God, did you notice the tension between the Gospel reading and the hymn we just sang by Pastor Philip Nicolai, and on which Bach wrote that marvelous cantata with the joyous duet we also just heard (and also the prelude)? You see, there’s an edge to the Gospel reading. A warning implicit in it. You hear it and begin to wonder: am I like the wise or the foolish virgins? Do I have oil for my lamp? What is the oil? Will I be ready when the Bridegroom shows up? But then you sang a hymn which simply assumed that you are NOT among the foolish, but the wise. It tells you to get ready to meet your Bridegroom with the joy and confidence. He will welcome you and usher you right into the wedding feast that has no end. “We enter all the wedding hall to eat the Supper at thy call” and “Therefore will we eternally sing hymns of praise and joy to thee.”

I’d like to ponder that tension with you by way of a quote that I encountered on X (that’s the old Twitter). I’ve come to know and treasure posts my friend Sarah makes. She lives out on the east coast. She wasn’t raised Lutheran, but came to our Church as an adult. She wrote this a while back: “The thing I love so much about being Lutheran is that I literally just live my life, trying to love my neighbor as much as possible, and I don’t ever even contemplate my salvation. Like it’s not even a question whether I will go to Heaven. Not because I’m an antinomian- but because I know losing Heaven would only happen if I intentionally chose to lose heaven. There is no accidental way I will end up losing my salvation, and that’s pretty nice.”

I smiled a big one when I read her words. They provoked a lot of people online who just didn’t like her confidence and tried to suggest that it was sinful presumption. But she wasn’t buying that. She knew it wasn’t presumption at all to simply trust the promises of salvation God makes in His Word: “He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Philippians 1. Or again, as St. Paul so recklessly assured the Thessalonians in today’s epistle: “God has not destined us for wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 1 Thes. 5:9

So there’s the key to the whole puzzle: “through our Lord Jesus Christ.” It was in confidence in Jesus and His sacrifice upon Golgotha and the perfect righteousness He delivers in Baptism, that Pastor Nicolai wrote his two great hymns “Wake, Awake” and “O Morning Star.” He wanted to sing the assurance of God’s salvation right down into the hearts of his members. And he wanted them to sing that joy into each other in the face of the most horrific death and sorrow. They didn’t have to fear if they were wise or foolish, provided only, as Sarah said, they don’t “intentionally chose to lose heaven.” Provided only you place yourself intentionally where the oil flows, God takes care of keeping you in repentance and faith and bringing you home to the Feast that never ends.

So notice that the two groups of virgins were alike in every point (including falling asleep) except for carrying the extra oil. If you ask what the oil means in Jesus’ parable, an old Lutheran study bible answers simply: “the oil is the gift of the Holy Spirit, who through Word and Sacrament kindles faith, love, and all good, preparing the heart for joyful service.” (Weimarische Bibel-Werk). I love that. You see, being a Lutheran Christian is as simple and joyous as this: YOU plant yourself where the oil flows. You live at the receiving end of the Word and the Sacraments, and then you can trust that God will do everything to finish the good work He’s begun in you.

He uses the preaching of His Law to keep you humble, so that you know you have zero righteousness that avails before Him. As Isaiah said so graphically, your righteousnesses are like a filthy menstrual rag. Your righteousness, not your sin. The best you can do, not the worst. The Law will never let you believe that you can stand before God on the basis of your good actions. It crushes that pride in you all the time. As James said: “For the person who keeps all of the laws except one is as guilty as a person who has broken all of God’s laws.” James 2:10 NLT The Law humbles us all by showing that we all stand condemned. BUT God also uses the preaching of His Gospel to fill you with joy! For it hands you JESUS as the One who has perfectly fulfilled every demand of God’s holy Law for you and who has fully paid for all of your sin upon His cross, and who gives you in His Sacraments His own righteousness. The preaching of Law and Gospel and the gifts of Baptism, Absolution, the Eucharist: THESE are the means by which the Holy Spirit is continually poured out upon you, and through them He will do His work. He will make you ready for that great Day of the Savior’s appearing by keeping you in saving faith. You just live where the oil flows, where the Holy Spirit is given, and He’ll take care of the rest.

And that means that you can sing “My beloved is mine and I am His, and heaven is where you are certainly headed.” The great joy of the wedding feast is that you have a Bridegroom who is exceedingly rich. He became one with us and died in order to bear our poverty and our wretchedness and sin, He now LIVES that you might become one with Him and share in all the riches and treasures of His grace. That’s what He reaches you today at His banqueting table, His Holy Altar.

So do not be afraid, people loved by God! Keep on hearing Jesus’ Word and receiving all that He wants to give you in His means of grace, and you will have oil enough and to spare. But DO fear wandering from His Word and His Sacraments, because not one of us can sustain faith on our own. Faith can only be received, not possessed, and the means of receiving that faith is simply the faithful use of the means of grace.

Yes, my friend Sarah nailed this one. The joy of being a Lutheran Christian is that you don’t need to worry about going to heaven. He’s covered that fully and completely. You just need to make sure you always give a listen to His Words both of Law and Gospel, and that you joyfully receive all that He gives you. And then it’s His job to get you home. And He will.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Gary Dean Steinmann Funeral Homily

2025-11-22T12:04:00.001-06:00

Robin, Jay, Rebecca, Dustin and Whitaker; Kirk and Dan, family and friends of Gary Steinmann, today is November 22. Thus it was 65 years and 9 days ago that Carl and Betty walked through those doors and carried their little one to old Pastor Deichmann who standing at that font. Though he was so little and his life stretched forth before him bright with promise, they knew even then that this day would certainly come. They just didn’t know when. So they were determined to do what Lutheran Christians have always done: to pick up their baby and hand him over to Jesus, so that Jesus could forgive all his sins and fill him with a life so strong and powerful that death itself could not take it away from him.

And for the same reason they made sure he attended St. Paul school where the Words and promises of God were pressed into his heart and mind, and even after many years, he still valued and loved all he learned from his teachers there, including Mrs. Judy Steinmann. And then when he was 14, he himself stood before this very altar before Pr. Waldemar Hischke and spoke for himself the promises his parents made for him at his Baptism years before, and then with the laying on of hands, Pastor spoke over him the words of Matthew 5:5 (ESV) “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” The meek are not wimpy. They are strong. They know that their heavenly Father has an outsized inheritance for them, and they are content to wait for it.

As Gary grew, it became evident that he was a most precise, neat and tidy man. I suppose in some ways that was rather a combo of both Carl and Betty. I remember Carl fussing over that picture over there until the hoofs on the sheep were just so; and of course Betty was our decorator in chief for the Sausage Supper for years beyond count. He didn’t like things messed up or out of order, and I suppose that inevitably led him into the medical profession. He knew, of course, that he was facing down an enemy that he could not finally win against, but I think something deep down inside of him raged against the disorder and pain and distress that sickness and death invariably bring in their wake.

I will never forget when I rushed to the hospital after hearing that our dear Marianne Altevogt was in a bad way. She’d been having the most awful time, and Gary and the medical team had valiantly worked to save her life, but I knew when I turned the corridor and saw him leaning against the counter with a vacant look on his face, that they had lost this battle. It occurred to me as I rushed on to comfort Delmar that Gary looked like HE needed some comforting too. The mess of sickness and death. He fought it tooth and nail even knowing it was finally a losing battle.

And it was in his battles for so many patients, that he found an ally and companion in you, Robin. You spoke your vows before this altar. And you and your children brought the joyful mess of another kind into his life. I’m a dad. Ask me how I know! And yet it was a joy he would not have traded for all the world. He truly landed on his feet with a ready made family and how he loved you all!

He was actually my PA for a short time, right before he retired. I got to experience his skillful compassion and care, and because I was his pastor as well as his patient, we got to talk a bit about life’s heartaches and trials. And I could go on about him: about his love of flying; of playing the guitar; of fixing machines that were broken; of snowmobiling up north. Having a blast with life. But I think he’d be yelling at me at this point and saying: don’t forget to tell them about what really matters.

And that would be this: despite his love of perfection, Gary was NOT a perfect human being and he knew that. Whenever he gathered with the saints to worship in this room, he spoke the truth when he called himself a poor, miserable, sinner who had deserved God’s temporal and eternal punishment. He knew that truth about himself in the deep way that only a true perfectionist CAN.

But he also knew a deeper and more profound truth: that despite his sin, he was loved and had a Redeemer, whose blood had answered for his every failing. If HE had failed to be perfect, Jesus had NOT and that Jesus had given that perfect righteousness to him right there in that font. Gary knew he would never be able to pass muster before God based on his own perfection. He clung for dear life to the perfection of Another, of His Savior. And that Savior promised him life everlasting as a free and undeserved gift.

So when I brought the Sacrament to Gary shortly before he died, I reminded him of why his parents had handed him over to Jesus when he was not even a month old. They knew who had eternal life and who didn’t. By the time I saw Gary, to use St. Paul’s analogy, his tent was wearing out. He had become skin and bones (even worse than when the tree fell on him) and he knew that the time for “putting off” his earthly tent was fast approaching. He made his confession again and then received the medicine of immortality. He received it with the promise of Jesus that whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, will never perish, and sweetest of all: and I will raise him up on the last day. Raise him up to receive that inheritance of the new heavens and new earth that Pastor Hischke had spoken of to him on the day of his confirmation.

I don’t think I’ve ever known such a long time to pass between a death and burial and interment. But it serves as a good reminder that while Gary’s spirit has been commended into the hands of the heavenly Father, he’s in the waiting room we call heaven. You see, what God has in store for him (for you and me too) isn’t DONE when we die, nor when we go to heaven. There’s more. And that’s what Gary’s waiting for now with all the forgiven sinners who are gathered together in the presence of the Lamb. They are waiting for the day when the One who was nailed to the cross, pouring out His blood to cover the sin of the world; when the One who was put into a tomb to sanctify our graves; when the One who was raised in a body incorruptible on that first Easter morning; when the One who has ascended into heaven and sits at His Father’s right hand…they’re waiting for the day when HE appears again in glory. For then it will all be done. Perfection at last.

Gary’s body raised in the same incorruption as Jesus’ own and united again with his soul: so that the full person is wholly healed, wholly restored. It’s no pipe dream. Gary knew that. He knew the One who had already passed that way and who promised him that “because I live, you will live too.” A body and soul finally made perfect, forever beyond the grip of the grave. He’s still waiting for that day with Carl and Betty, with all the saints, so that “what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.” And we wait for it too, and as we wait we pray: “Though my flesh awaits its raising still my soul continues praising. I am baptized into Christ. I’m a child of paradise.” Amen.

A Reminder!

2025-11-13T14:14:00.003-06:00

If you haven’t ordered your copy yet of I Remember: A Life of Mary, it might be just the Christmas gift you need for children or grandchildren. Here’s the link: I Remember. Kelly Klages’ artwork is what will make this book one of their favorites!

A Perennial Irritation

2025-09-22T12:54:00.003-05:00

I refer to the Collect of the Day for Trinity 14. In TLH this ran:

Keep, we beseech Thee, O Lord, Thy Church with Thy perpetual mercy; and because the frailty of man without Thee cannot but fall, keep us ever by Thy help from all things hurtful and lead us to all things profitable to our salvation; through Jesus Christ…

But in LSB we have:

O Lord, keep Your Church with Your perpetual mercy; and because of our frailty we cannot but fall, keep us ever by Your help from all things hurtful and lead us to all things profitable to our salvation; through Jesus Christ…

I am not griping about the updated language, but about that clause after the first semicolon. It would work, I suppose, if we eliminated the “of” and read it “and because our frailty cannot but fall” or if you put back in “the frailty of man without You”, or even just went with a more literal rendering of the old Latin: “because it cannot continue in safety without you.” But as the prayer stands in LSB the sentence always strikes me as wrong (not theologically, but linguistically).

Has anyone else noticed how off that collect sounds?

On Charlie

2025-09-11T13:48:00.002-05:00

I had just finished writing an article for our Issues Etc. Journal yesterday when I checked in on X only to read what seemed about a thousand Kyrie eleisons arising and filling my news feed. Something horrible had happened, I knew, but it took a while to find out. At first it was just the horrific news of Charlie being shot, but then came word that he had succumbed to his wounds. That joyous, bright, vivacious man—probably the foremost witness to Jesus Christ in the public square—had been plowed down by an assassin’s bullet. I spent the afternoon doom scrolling with the rest of you, and praying for him, for his wife, for his poor children, and for this nation.

How could this happen? During the past few years, I’d come to treasure the man’s posts and his fearless and friendly debates. He never regarded the person in front of him, vigorously disagreeing with him and even calling names, as an enemy, but as a friend to be persuaded and won. I confess myself a great fan of the current VP, J.D. He’s an incredibly gifted man and a great debater, but Charlie was in another league. I mean, hands down. J.D. sometimes stays on too intellectual a field for some to follow, but Charlie had the gift. He could speak to us all. And he used that gift to speak to the youth across this nation who have been swindled by the demonic into self mutilation and bitterness and hatred of their own family. He spoke to them with a charisma and genuine friendliness that they simply did not know what to do with. He walked the way of our Master, and he walked it to the end. My brother said to me this morning what so many of us thought: we expected him one day to be the President of these United States.

He could speak hard and devastating truth, but never in scorn and hatred. It came from a heart that was filled with the love of Christ. If you never heard him speak or debate, youtube has TONS of his efforts posted. Please, go listen to this voice of goodness (yes, I dare to call it that) that has been silenced. If all you know of him is the hatred spewed his way by the left, you don’t know the man at all. Still, as so many folks have insisted on X and in other forums, Charlie’s voice will NOT be silenced. We will not allow it. His message has only grown stronger and I believe will grow stronger yet.

Indeed, as the Federalist published, Charlie is not merely a political victim; he is a martyr. His witness for Jesus over the past few years has been a thing of beauty to behold. He cared so much about his nation because he knew that this nation is not the ultimate; the ultimate is the Kingdom of Jesus Christ, and he wanted to serve the One who had laid down His life for him even in these penultimate things. And he wanted everyone to enjoy that Kingdom with him. He’s there now, awaiting the day of the Resurrection.

Rest eternal grant him, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon him!

About that trip…

2025-09-08T11:00:00.004-05:00

…so Cindi and I promised Carlo before we went to the Netherlands that we’d set aside our usual zero carb diet and just enjoy whatever food he recommended. We enjoyed an Indonesian “Rice Table” one evening, a dutch “pancake” one evening, some schnitzel and numerous pastries and desserts. Unusually for me, I mostly forewent my wine and enjoyed numerous drafts of Swinkel beer. I left home weighing 175.8, already a tad high. And?

I came home weighing 187.6. All that talk about how folks LOSE weight eating European food? Not at all true for me (or Cindi!). By the time we got home, I felt bloated, my ankles were swollen, and was just definitely not my usual chipper self.

We had decided we’d immediately head back to our zero carb diet. The result? It’s still early days, only the fifth morning after I recorded that high weight. But this morning, I weighed in at 176.4, so about a half pound heavier than when I left. The ankles are no longer swollen. Was able to run sprints this morning and each day I’ve felt better and better.

Whew! The experiment convinced me that we’re on the right track with eliminating the carbbage. The treats we enjoyed were indeed tasty, but my body is telling me: “Thank you for returning to normal!”

P.S. And about that jacket. Carlo told us to be sure and bring a windbreaker for the frequent rain. I didn’t have one, so looked at Dollar General. Nada. Went over to Loves. Found that one. It was pricey, though, and I had no idea why. But it fit well, and it had a cool bear on it. Cindi is the one to break the news: it costs so much because it is a NFL jacket for the Chicago Bears. I’m serious: I couldn’t have named a football team from Chicago if I tried. So now, I look like a Bears fan. I’m not a fan of ANY sports team. But I like my jacket, pricey though it was.

A Wonderful Trip

2025-09-04T12:30:00.000-05:00

I was more than a tad skeptical, given the amount of activities and traveling that the VanUlfts had planned: but it was truly an awesome experience. We flew to Amsterdam arriving on Monday, August 25th and leaving again from there on September 3rd. We visited all around the Netherlands, a trip to Brugge in Belgium, and to Germany (lovely Monschau and then visiting the Moselle river valley and a wine festival and also Aachen); we spent four nights in a castle in the Limberg province of the Netherlands; I got to drive a new BMW on the Autobahn and do outrageous speeds; we forsook our carnivore diet and ate whatever tasty treat Carlo introduced us to; and I enjoyed numerous drafts of Swinkel beer. We visited Delft, Kinderdijk, Maastricht, Aachen, Het Loo and too many other spots to name. William of Orange seemed to be everywhere (yes, he’s the William of Williamburg and the College of William and Mary in VA). The men lost spectacularly at four-handed pinochle. And we arrived home safely last evening about 8 p.m. A few pics:

Old and Dear Friends

2025-08-15T19:42:00.002-05:00

I’ll never forget when I first met Robert and Candy Esch. They came to St. Paul’s in the 1990’s, and I think our mutual friend, Charlie Grinstead, had more than a little hand in that. Candy had been raised in Chile (her dad a diplomat) and she still has that fascinating Latin reserve about her; Robert, well, not so much. Give him the impossible to do first, then he’ll tackle the extremely difficult.

He wasn’t at St. Paul’s long before he informed me that if we wanted to have a decent musical program we had to expand the balcony. I was thinking to myself: uh-huh. The congregation dearly loved their building, and I just couldn’t see them allowing some newbie to monkey with it. His response? “Watch.” So he drew up an architectural scheme to expand the balcony by anchoring an I-beam in the two forward buttresses and then cantilevering out to it. It all sounded sketchy to me, but what do I know about architecture? He and Candy also donated not a little bit of the cost. The long and short of it, he convinced the congregation! We have a spacious balcony (well, spacious compared to what it was!). The musical program look off. Soon we had timpani in the balcony (courtesy of Robert and Candy) and room for all sorts of accompanying musicians. He ended up being choir director for some time and taught the choir to sing “Joy to the Heart” (still one of my favorites). He loved to do what he called “production numbers” like that.

Charlie, Bob and I also played a bit of racquet ball together. Charlie and I mostly just ran after the balls as Bob consistently sent them into impossible positions to return. His specialty was having the ball land right at the front wall and simply roll back. He’d twirl his racquet in his hand and laugh every time he nailed that shot, and Charlie and I would look at each other and sigh in exasperation. After Charlie’s untimely death, Robert and I played on for a bit. But him and against only one of us was rather impossible. I remember one day when I was boring him to death with my ineptitude and he decided to give me a particularly challenging shot and said: “See Bill run. Run, Bill, run.” (You have to have been old enough to learn to read from those books: “See Spot run. Run, Spot, run.”) I was laughing so hard there was no way I could get to the ball. And there was the time I returned the ball so hard, it hit Bob in the back of the head. Yikes. He turned to me, his eyes closed, and he slumped down against the wall. He passed out! I was ready to call an ambulance, but when he came to, he opened up his eyes, got back on his feet, and insisted we finish the game. Which, of course, he won. He always won. Like always.

The man over the years had a landscaping business, a financial planning business (Cindi was his office manager for more than 20 years with that), a stone business, he flew hot air balloons, and he piloted airplanes. In fact, his last airplane he built from a kit in his garage. He wanted to take me up in it, and I flatly refused. He is generous to a fault. I remember when he moved his business to Troy, he purchased a year’s worth of box seats at the Fox Theatre, and whenever he didn’t need them for business associates, he generously let us use them. So Cindi, the kids, and I got to see numerous productions. It was way out of our league, but we sure enjoyed ourselves that year!

On the 20th anniversary of my ordination, the congregation surprised me by inviting Dr. Norman Nagel to preach. Dr. Nagel so charmed Bob and Candy, that they insisted we all go out to together to Bob’s favorite restaurant over in St. Louis: Al’s. What a delightful evening that was! The good Dr. and Betsy held forth royally and even when Dr. Nagel ordered an Australian favorite, they readily prepared for him, and he said it was excellent. Of course, we finished off the evening with Al’s famous Banana’s Foster! We were all grateful to Robert and Candy for the great memory.

And then there are his exploits with his long-suffering wife. Like when he decided she needed to get licensed for scuba diving, or needed to learn to play bag pipes, or whatever he happened to think up next! Candy came home one day to find all of her spices rearranged, put in alphabetical order! (Seriously?) And then there was the time she came home to find that he’d emptied her refrigerator (and right before a Christmas dinner) because he decided that the fridge needed to go to his mother! Life with Robert Esch is many things, but it is always an adventure and never a bore. It’s sort of “buckle your seatbelts!”

Candy was a popular teacher in our school: she loved literature and the kids she taught ended up loving literature too. She was one of those teachers that the kids just WANTED to please. They learned from her and respected her and she opened up new vistas to them. I personally loved the times we got to visit at the school after class. Love that lady so, so much.

In recent years both have had some significant health issues, and they finally decided it was time to move down to South Carolina to be with their daughter Liz and granddaughter Bella. So we went out for lunch, to remember all the crazy and joyous times, and to remind them that we have a guest room ready for whenever they come back this way.

Bob and Candy, we love you both more than words can say. And we’re really, really going to miss you both!

The Rev. Henry Gerike+

2025-08-07T12:26:00.004-05:00

Word reached today that Henry fell asleep in Jesus last night. We became friends when we were both at seminary together. He had in earlier years served as a teacher, and of course, always as a musician, but the Spirit tugged at his heart to follow his father’s path into the Office of the Holy Ministry. I remember in my fourth year right before graduation, he took Cindi and me out to visit his brother-in-law and sister at St. Paul’s, Wood River, and he gave me Neuhaus’ Freedom for Ministry, which truly was the greatest gift that could be given to a man about to embark on his first call.

When I ended up coming back to Hamel (where I had been fieldworker) as pastor, Henry and I got to work together again on Lutheran Musician Enrichment. I remember he and I had a delightful disagreement at one of the sessions. I wanted the Alleluia sung with zip and joy; Henry insisted that joy could be slow and solemn too. He wasn’t wrong, of course, (but neither was I). The exchange sticks with me because it so characterized the man. He MOVED slowly. He MOVED deliberately. He didn’t gulp, he savored. And this also showed in his tendency to savor music. Whether he was conducting or composing, he most often mirrored that intention to go slow and to milk delight out of every last note and nuance.

When I started at the IC as Chaplain and Director of Worship, Henry became my unofficial watchdog. He never quite trusted, I don’t think, my lack of musical training, and so he was always there to offer a musician’s perspective on the doing of things. Yes, sometimes he irritated the daylights out of me, but mostly he was invaluable and right. I can’t count the number of times he served us as organist at the IC; he was always ready to lend a hand. And he was inventive! We were to sing LSB 471, “O Sons and Daughters of the King.” He decided it MUST have some percussion. He sent me scurrying down to Missions in the hope of a tambourine. Alas, nothing. Did that stop him? Oh, no. He found some change, put it in the metal pencil holder on the organ, and instructed me in the rhythm I was to rattle it! It sounds crazy, but (as usual) it worked.

SO if Henry had an idea, well, he knew how to just keep hammering away until you gave in. And you were usually glad in the end that you did. It was really cute. He’d bring the idea up like for the first time and invite your buy-in. Even it you’d said “no” twenty times before. You see, if you didn’t buy-in, he didn’t give up. He’d just wait. And then he’d suggest it anew, and always as a fresh brand new idea. He was giving you ample opportunity to repent of rejecting the idea! That was what it was like to work with him: a man markedly humble, and yet doggedly stubborn about what he thought was best. Thanks be to God that he mostly got his way! He was the guiding spirit of both of the liturgical institutes I was privileged to work on with him.

When our mutual friend and mentor, Dr. Norman Nagel was incapacitated with a stroke, Henry was such a faithful visitor. He stopped in regularly and read him some Kretzmann, some Lewis, some Luther. Dr. Nagel might nod off, and Henry would pause and wait for him to wake up and then continue. He was a good and faithful friend.

A few years ago, I got to put together a service of celebration of the music and ministry of our dear Henry. It was held at Village Lutheran Church in Ladue and Jonathan Kohrs served as the organist. It featured much of Henry’s music, and the whole was woven together via a letter that Henry’s sainted father had sent him when he was in college. Pr. Scott Schilbe would read a section from the letter, and I’d comment briefly to connect the words to some piece of Henry’s music. It will always be a highlight of my life being able to participate in that celebration of my dear friend’s music and service.

I wonder if the dear Lord Jesus had his holy angels sing “Up through Endless Ranks” for Henry as he made his homecoming, to await in the Lord’s presence the great fulfillment of all His promises in the resurrection of the dead and the life everlasting? Thank you, Lord, for the gift of your servant. For his music. For his life and now for his death. Soli Deo Gloria!

Today’s great joy!

2025-08-03T18:34:00.003-05:00

A Follow up on Dr. Egger’s Presentation

2025-07-21T19:08:00.002-05:00

At Making the Case Conference. Someone asked if accepting the creation account as history entails accepting Bishop Usher’s dating schema. It struck me again how poor Usher gets the blame. Actually, if you go back in time to the Kalends read in the Office on Christmas Morning, you used to hear (I’ll just give the English):

In the year from the creation of the world, when God in the beginning created heaven and earth, five thousand one hundred and ninety-nine:

From the flood, the year two thousand nine hundred and fifty-seven:

From the birth of Abraham, two thousand and fifteen:

From Moses and the going out of the people of Israel from Egypt, one thousand five hundred and ten:

From the anointing of David as king, one thousand and thirty-two:

In the sixty-fifth week according to the prophecy of Daniel:

In the one hundred and ninety-fourth Olympiad:

From the foundation of the city of Rome, the seven hundred and fifty-second year:

In the forty-second year of the reign of Octavian Augustus,

The whole world being in peace,

In the sixth age of the world,

Jesus Christ, the eternal God and Son of the eternal Father,

willing to consecrate the world by his most loving coming,

having been conceived of the Holy Spirit, and having passed nine months since his conception,

is born in Bethlehem of Judah of the Virgin Mary, being made man…

Would you care to take a guess at how it reads now in the Roman Communion? Hmm???

when ages beyond number had run their course

from the creation of the world,

when God in the beginning created heaven and earth,

and formed man in his own likeness;*

when century upon century had passed

since the Almighty set his bow in the clouds after the Great Flood,

as a sign of covenant and peace;

in the twenty-first century since Abraham, our father in faith,

came out of Ur of the Chaldees;

in the thirteenth century since the people of Israel were led by Moses

in the Exodus from Egypt;

around the thousandth year since David was anointed king;

in the sixty-fifth week of the prophecy of Daniel;

in the one hundred and ninety-fourth Olympiad;

in the year seven hundred and fifty-two since the foundation of the City of Rome;

in the forty-second year of the reign of Caesar Octavian Augustus,

the whole world being at peace,

Jesus Christ, eternal God and Son of the eternal Father,

desiring to sanctify the world by his most merciful coming,

was conceived by the Holy Spirit,

and when nine months had passed since his conception,

was born of the Virgin Mary in Bethlehem of Judah, and was made man:

I hardly need to comment that Scripture hasn’t changed a whit. You tell me, please, who is representing the old faith in this current world better? Would someone like Pope St. Gregory the Great even understand how the Kalends of Christmas now read? What about Robert Bellarmine?

After hearing Dr. Eggert lay out the Biblical case for reading six days as, well, six days, I was reminded of something written by St. Basil the Great:

Now twenty-four hours fill up the space of one day—we mean of a day and of a night; and if, at the time of the solstices, they have not both an equal length, the time marked by Scripture does not the less circumscribe their duration. It is as though it said: twenty-four hours measure the space of a day—St. Basil the Great, Hexameron, Homily 2, par. 8.

The modern Orthodox have tended to abandon Basil on this; Rome has certainly abandoned its old faith. And there we stubborn LCMS Lutherans sit. STILL holding to the faith of our fathers. May He keep us firm in it forevermore!

And that’s another Making the Case in the books…

2025-07-20T12:07:00.001-05:00

We got a pic with newish Lutherans who came into communion with us after hearing the Whitman (Ten Minute Bible Hour) interviews:

If you missed the conference, you FOR SURE want to ask someone to tell you about Hans Fiene’s wonderful presentation, especially his own “parable” that filled our hearts with such joyful consolation.

And a pic of the final procession as we headed out singing “Go, My Children”. We had quite a number of folks stay through the closing Eucharist:

And the whole enchilada…

2025-07-08T17:39:00.003-05:00

And It IS Here: “I Remember: A Life of Mary”

2025-06-23T08:48:00.001-05:00

You can order your copy right here.

And it’s almost here!

2025-06-22T15:38:00.002-05:00

Check it out at AdCrucem!

Remembering Jimmy

2025-05-17T12:44:00.008-05:00

My earliest memories of Jimmy was as our mailman. He actually lived right across the street from us (in a home my brother Joe would later live in). I remember looking forward to his visit every day when he dropped off our mail. He’d take time out for a word or two. And I do mean a word or two. Jimmy was generally a most quiet man. Oh, you could get him to talk, but it took some doing and I hadn’t mastered the art yet.

I remember not long before he and Sissy got married, the two of them were waiting for me across from Glenmont Elementary School to walk me home (unbelievably there is a video of that day with me walking out of the classroom in the FB Glenmont Elementary School group).

And while they were dating and after they got married, they would take me with them quite often: I first visited both the Chesapeake Bay and Ocean City with them. I remember Jimmy had a red convertible that was a blast to ride in.

At first, after they were married, Sis and Jimmy continued to live across the street in his mother’s home (and his mom, Mrs. Cooke, introduced me to the vice of cheese puffs. I loved to go visit her and help her empty the bag). They eventually bought a house out in a new (back then!) subdivision known as Aspen Hill. It even had a built in garage and a driveway of all things! There their family grew, and honestly my three nephews and my niece always seemed more like brothers and sister than anything else. I loved (and still love) their company. Whenever mom landed in the hospital, daddy would drop me off with them and I was happy as could be. Especially once I discovered the wonders of their Encyclopedia Britannica! Jimmy let his wife’s little brother freeload with them quite a bit. I even got to take swimming lessons at their neighborhood pool.

Jimmy didn’t stay with the post office. He held several jobs across the years, including doing a stint with NSA and finally working with the FBI (where his wife also landed and where his daughter still works), and I believe after he retired he continued doing contract work for them.. He never talked much about what he did, but I got the impression he worked on their gadgets. In his later years, he was always playing with the surveillance system he’d installed in their home.. I remember him announcing once when he was visiting us; “Side door just opened. Hannah’s (his granddaughter) home.” And though he was always reticent about what he actually did, I know he had huge respect there at the Bureau. If I ever asked him to spill the beans on what really was going on, he’d always chuckle and say: “Bill, trust me on this, you just really don’t want to know. You just don’t want to know.”

When my dad died, he graciously allowed us to blend households: Sis and Jimmy and family moved back to Richardsville, and mom added onto Butch’s old home, and then mom and I moved in with them. I was already in my third year of college, so I was mostly only there for holidays and summer break. Still, I am grateful for them doing that especially for the way Jimmy and Sis and their family took care of mom in her declining years.

I remember one time when I was serving my vicarage in Garfield, New Jersey (right across from Manhattan), Jimmy drove up and spent the night with us. He had an FBI meeting to attend in the city. I think he talked more that visit than at any time previous! Cindi had to rush off to her job in the morning, but Jimmy and I lingered over breakfast and coffee, chatting.

We frequently would stop at Cracker Barrel with Sis and Jimmy, though last time we got together I think we all ate at a steak house. I would never have guessed it would be our last visit. My sister has had a number of health issues over the years, but Jimmy always seemed to be healthy as a horse. Alas in the last month or month and a half, he ended up hospitalized, home for a bit, hospitalized again, then rehab and back to the hospital for a final time with trouble breathing.

I know I’m going to miss him big time. I can’t even imagine how awful it is going to be for my sister, his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. You see, he always pretended to be gruff while he spoiled them rotten (yes, my sister too) - I remember telling him, half jokingly, once that he needed to adopt me! His famous chuckle (okay, more of snort): “No.”

He was truly more like a brother than a brother-in-law since I have no memory of life without him in it. Rest eternal grant him, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon him!

And the day…

2025-05-16T18:16:00.002-05:00

…my brother Maup died, my sister wasn’t feeling up to talking to anyone. So when I called her to find out what had happened, it was my brother-in-law Jimmy that gave me the whole story. Sissy was actually in bed with a horrible migraine. He was always a solid rock for our family. I honestly don’t know how we’ll make it without him. Here’a a picture from the last time he and sis visited us in Hamel: