This week, I kicked off a new series on the blog called Grace Between the Lines. It’s about the subtle ways grace shows up in our lives—often in places that don’t look traditionally “religious,” but where something sacred still manages to break through.
In the first post, I tell the story of a recent visit to the bookstore. I found myself standing in the self-help/spirituality section—browsing titles by folks like Eckhart Tolle, Ernest Holmes, and Martha Beck. Years ago, that shelf felt like home. These days, as a Lutheran pastor, I see things differently. But I also realized: I’m still me. The same soul longing that once pulled me toward those books is still here—it’s just taken on a new shape.
That’s what this series is really about: the way grace meets us in the in-between. How we can change, grow, and evolve—and yet still carry something essential and true through it all. Something God refuses to let go of.
📚 Did You Hear the One Where the Lutheran Pastor Walks Into the Metaphysics Aisle?
Grace Between the Lines: A New Series Begins
Notes of the week
Homily of the week
🪡 “She Sat Up” — A Mother's Day Sermon 🌸
Resurrection doesn’t always come with fireworks. Sometimes, it’s quiet. Subtle. A name softly spoken in love.
On Mother’s Day, we met Tabitha—a woman who didn’t preach or perform miracles, but stitched love into the fabric of her community. And when she died… they wept. They remembered. And then, something holy happened.
This sermon is for anyone who feels like a dropped stitch. A forgotten name. A loose thread.
Whether you’re soaring or barely stitched together—this one’s for you...
P.S. If you’re in a season of wanting to take a closer look at your vocation - maybe even make a shift - there’s still room to hang out with Alex (I’ll be there too) in Inverness, CA at her upcoming retreat. Again, this isn’t your typical “go fix yourself” retreat. It’s a space to remember who you are. To listen inward. To reclaim the gifts you may have buried under daily life. There’ll be soulful reflection, nature, quiet magic, and home-cooked meals by a Northern California culinary legend (Alex’s mom, who, I can attest, is the best chef in the world).
In Joy,
Jonas