Community & Service, Love & Change

A message delivered in Christ Chapel at Gustavus Adolphus College

I wrap up my time on campus at Gustavus Adolphus College at the end of next week. There’s a lot to do between now and then. But today, I had a chance to step back from the busyness of the transition and reflect by sharing a message with the community in Christ Chapel.

At a time of great change, how should we respond?

Focus on love, and each other. And don’t be afraid to roll up your sleeves and help.

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September 25, 2025 | Christ Chapel | Gustavus Adolphus College

Thank you, Chaplain Ben.

The first night I ever spent on campus, I slept on the floor of Alumni Hall in a hand-me-down sleeping bag. I’d come to Gustavus for a middle school youth retreat with a group from Farmington Lutheran Church. My friends and I played dodgeball on the blue and swam in the pool and ate Icees in the caf. We gossiped a little bit, and we bragged a little bit, and we had deep conversations.

I was twelve or thirteen years old, and I thought that this was the best place ever.

Then I forgot about Gustavus for awhile. I was a teenager. I had other stuff going on.

I came back as a high school senior and I realized that this was where I wanted to go to college. When I visited here I felt welcomed. I felt like I belonged.

And I think, looking back now, that I needed a place like this. I was a pretty good student, but I didn’t always do my homework. I needed people who would check in on me every once in awhile. I liked being part of a team. I found those things here.

I came to college with the goal of being a teacher and coach, but after taking a few education classes I knew that wasn’t my calling.

I struggled to decide what to major in. I remember taking a writing course with legendary Gustavus professor and poet Phil Bryant.

We were walking down the hall in Confer-Vickner after class. Could I really be an English major? I was filled with doubt.

Now, Phil and I don’t appear to have a lot in common.

He grew up on the south side of Chicago and came to Gustavus at the tail end of the Civil Rights movement. I grew up in a small town on the south end of the metro here in Minnesota and was a student at Gustavus during the Great Recession. He liked jazz. I played football and listened to Jimmy Buffett.

“It’s okay to tell your parents you’re majoring in English,” Phil said to me. “Just don’t tell them if you’re going to be a poet!”

A few of my family members are here today including my mom and dad, Dave and Kris. Thanks for sending me to Gustavus all those years ago.

Looking back now, I guess we didn’t know exactly what I was getting into.

And I’d like to thank Phil Bryant, Florence Amamoto, and my other professors. I’ve done a lot of writing for the college since that conversation in the hallway. I’ve written a few poems too.

I was raised in the Lutheran church and I’ve built my life here on this campus with its steeple overlooking the Minnesota River Valley, but I had to ask Chaplain Ben to tell me more about Paul’s letter to the Corinthians.

It’s good to be curious. But it’s also good to have smart friends.

In Corinthians, Paul is speaking to a community experiencing change. The question before them is how to build a better future—how to build a community that will thrive.

These questions led to conflict and arguments by people who thought they were being faithful and finding that they were disagreeing with other people who also thought they were being faithful.

In the verse for today, Paul says, “Listen! We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed.” Now Paul means that not every believer will die, but that all who believe will be granted eternal life.

Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed—in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed.
1 Corinthians 15:51-52

Now, because I’m an English major, I know that translation is a selection of words and that the selection of those words tells a story. And I like this translation because it talks about the mystery of creation and the magic of change. “In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet, we will be changed.”

It frames change itself as a mystery, a great unknown that we must walk into with faith, yes, but also with each other—even if we have unanswered questions. Even if we don’t always agree.

Like all colleges and universities, Gustavus is going through a period of transition and change right now. It’s happening throughout our communities, our nation, and the world. People who are being faithful to what they believe are coming into conflict with other people who are being faithful to what they believe.

Now, in a conflict like that, what’s the answer? What do we use as the compass that will point us in the right direction?

Paul tells us that the answer is love. That’s what Corinthians is about. Love each other, and build your community accordingly.

I like this because it’s a simple rule that can be applied in almost any situation.

Now, I haven’t always been able to do it.

None of us have.

But striving to infuse love for people from all backgrounds and walks of life into our decision making—trying to do that every day, in every decision—that seems like a good place to start.

The chaplains asked if I would talk about my faith. I’m not sure how I’d categorize that these days. I have a lot of questions. But being Lutheran or culturally Lutheran or philosophically Lutheran—whatever I decide to call it that day—I know that questions are okay.

But making decisions with the community in mind, doing the work that is in front of us, and remembering to keep love for others first. Call that whatever you want. Those are ideas that I can get behind.

Which brings me to the hymn for today: “Here I am Lord.” Now, Chaplain Ben tells me this is a vocational hymn. It’s about answering the call and serving something greater. It’s about looking out for those in need.

The hymn is based on texts from the books of Isaiah and Samuel. As you listen to the verses you hear the voice of God—the Lord of Sea and Sky, the Lord of Wind and Flame.

Imagine the awe-inspiring power and unknowable mystery of the creator. Imagine feeling that you’re connected to something bigger but being afraid of the possibility of what that might mean. Imagine raising your hand anyway to say “Here I am. I will help.”

It’s scary. The mystery of creation. The uncertainty of change. The commandment to love. The call to serve.

It’s always easier to lean out and to lash out and to push others away. But taking that path doesn’t build community, it fractures it.

After spending half of my life on this campus, I’m leaving next weekend to build a new life in Nova Scotia with my wife, Hayley. This wasn’t part of our original plan, but then again neither was majoring in English. In many ways, what awaits me in Canada is a mystery. It’s a major change in my life, and one that’s being done out of love.

I hope that when your call comes, whatever it is, you will stand up and say “Here I am.”

Even if you’re afraid of what comes next.

Gustavus is worth it. The communities we live in are worth it. The people around you are worth it.

I came here for the first time 25 years ago and left feeling like Gustavus was the best place ever.

Today, I know a lot more than I did back then. I’ve learned about people and conflict and community and change and, yes, even love.

I think back to that first visit to campus all those years ago and realize that some of my best days are ones where we make good decisions that are borne out of care for the community—and days when I get to gossip a little bit, and brag a little bit, and have deep conversations with my friends and colleagues.

And when I leave this place next week, I leave with the clear-eyed understanding that Gustavus can be the best place ever.

But it’s going to take all of us looking out for one another and saying “Here I Am” to do it.

Thank you. For everything.

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