Pr. W--Awesome as always. Please comment on origins of substitutionary sacrifice. As an 88yr old lifelong Lutheran I am fairly comfortable with the concept, but fail at explaining to youth, esp. young women for whom animal death is a stumbling block. (My teenage daughter would call 911 for a squirrel. ) What are origins? R.A. Rothermel, St. Pauls, Glen Burnie , MD
Hi Pastor, a beautiful poem. I actually incorporated a story you told on Issues Etc. into a poem I wrote titled "Sleep of the Saint" with I be sharing on my Substack. I believe it was during the "what I wish my non-Lutheran friends understood about funerals" program.
Here's the stanza:
At his mother's casket, the son stands,
Remembering her life, the gifts from her hands.
The womb that bore him, the lips that kissed,
Each memory now, forever missed.
The last good work God permits us to express,
To bring them to church, to lay them to rest.
Her lips once spoke of prayers now fulfilled,
Her hands gave freely, love unrestrained.
The son lays her to rest, God’s peace instilled,
Till dawn eternal, where life remains. ~ Mark Dowell
Pr. W--Awesome as always. Please comment on origins of substitutionary sacrifice. As an 88yr old lifelong Lutheran I am fairly comfortable with the concept, but fail at explaining to youth, esp. young women for whom animal death is a stumbling block. (My teenage daughter would call 911 for a squirrel. ) What are origins? R.A. Rothermel, St. Pauls, Glen Burnie , MD
The conversation with Joshua Pauling is terrific! Thank you, as always, for pinging the mind and encouraging the heart! The Lord be with you!
July 18-19, Solon, IA: LWML Iowa East District Retreat
At Camp Io-Dis-E-Ca
Hi Pastor, a beautiful poem. I actually incorporated a story you told on Issues Etc. into a poem I wrote titled "Sleep of the Saint" with I be sharing on my Substack. I believe it was during the "what I wish my non-Lutheran friends understood about funerals" program.
Here's the stanza:
At his mother's casket, the son stands,
Remembering her life, the gifts from her hands.
The womb that bore him, the lips that kissed,
Each memory now, forever missed.
The last good work God permits us to express,
To bring them to church, to lay them to rest.
Her lips once spoke of prayers now fulfilled,
Her hands gave freely, love unrestrained.
The son lays her to rest, God’s peace instilled,
Till dawn eternal, where life remains. ~ Mark Dowell