Let me start by saying I was pretty sure I could stand up here and talk about my mom without crying, but…I could be wrong.

Greta Trygstad was our mom. But she was much more that that. She was many things to many people. To her mom and dad, she was Peanut, the littlest kid, who needed a special boost now and then to grow up healthy and whole. She was a loyal and good friend; if Greta was your friend, you had a friend for life. She married a man who by nature was a gentle man, but it was her love that knocked off the rough edges and made him a gentleman. To that man—our Dad—she was the love of his life, and his #1 supporter in his careers. To her church, she was a pillar of LWML, and Vacation Bible School, the maker of Chrismons, and many other things. To Cub Scouts, she was a Den Mother. To PTA, she was a leader and a publicity chair. To her San Dieguito High classmates, she was one of the folks that held them together and brought them together. She was an artist, a craftsman, a wordsmith, and a chef. She worked tirelessly for children and adults with special needs, and for anyone who’s life she could make better.

She was not just mom to me and my brother and sister. She was mom to all our friends, who would come to her for help even when we were not around. She was mother to our neighborhood, for all the kids who needed a mother. She was the mother to stray young Marines, and young employees of our Dad’s, and grandmother to some of their children. She welcomed and fed anyone who crossed her threshhold. She let her whole family—parents, siblings, children, and adopted children—know that they were always welcome for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, along with any strays any of us wanted to bring. And we brought friends, neighbors, classmates, shipmates, convicted murderers, all kinds of folks. Mom believed as Jesus did that a table was to be shared with all.

Greta—our mom—wasn’t perfect. She let her politics be swayed by demagogues. She loved wine, and occasionally would imbibe to much. She smoked too much. But her flaws were minor, and the care she had for others far outweighed them. She lived her life selflessly, never failing to put others ahead of herself. We are so lucky to be her children, because she raised us to be selfless, to be unprejudiced, to put others ahead of ourselves, and to raise our children to be the same. In many ways, we all wish we could be her.

Mom had great sayings. When me and all the neighborhood kids starting getting on her nerves, she would look at us with a smile and say, “Why don’t you kids take a box of measles and go play on the freeway?” She used to want to go hunting naugas…you know, the animals that naugahide comes from. We had a car that used to audibly say “The door is ajar.” She would argue with it: “No, it’s not a jar; it’s a door.” If things were the same, it was always “six of one, half dozen of the other.” Once mom went to buy some underwear for our dad; the clerk asked if she wanted white or nude. She told him “Nude? No, white. My husband is so modest he goes into the next room to change his mind.” And puns. Greta NEVER missed an opportunity to make a pun. It’s rubbed off on us; if you look at me and my sons, you’ll see that in our family, family ties means family…ties. I really wanted to stand up here and remember her entirely in puns, but despite my genetic disposition to punning, I was never near as good as punning as mom–and I though it might be too much pun-ishment for all of you.

Greta was a woman of faith. Before we settled here at Faith Lutheran when I was eight, she used to take me to Sunday School at the Base Chapel wherever my dad was stationed. And her faith was a faith of action. She believed that when Jesus ascended to heaven, he left all of us to be his hands and feet, and she took that charge seriously. Mom’s belief in the Gospel of Jesus was never an intellectual or emotional exercise, but was was rather a call to her personally to act on His behalf.

I honestly have no way to wrap this up. I did write something out here, but I could stand up here and talk about Greta Trygstad—our mom—for hours. But I don’t think I’m saying anything to you about our mom that you don’t already know. We love her. We will all miss her. Thank you all for being with us today to remember her life.

Greta’s Obituary (San Diego Union-Tribune).
Slide show presentation of Greta’s life in pictures, as shown before her service and at the meal following.
Or you can download the video (582,826 KB).

The scripture reading before the sermon is 1 Samuel 15:34-16:13.

Who?

This must be one of the most commonly asked questions in history. Anytime something needs doing, a job needs filling, a vacuum of power arises, or you need someone, the same question always comes up: Who? Who will do it? Who can we send? Who will run? Who will save us? Who will be my friend?

Who?

The people of Israel said “Who?…Who will be our King?” They didn’t have a king, but all the folks around them did, so they decided they just had to have one too. And the Lord answered their prayers; He told his prophet Samuel to anoint Saul to govern his people. Saul looked the part of a king. He was a tall man, a full head taller than everyone else. By the time of our story today, he was a war hero as well. He seemed to be everything the people thought a king should be. (Based on height alone, he could have been a university president, who as a group are far taller than the general population.)  But he was as it turns out, disobedient. And disobedience in Israel’s history seems to be God’s biggest pet peeve. So, the scripture tells us, “…the Lord regretted that he had made Saul king over Israel.”

Now, let’s just take a brief aside here to recognize the danger of the phrase, “the Lord regretted…”. This only happens twice in our scripture. The only other instance is prior to the great flood of Noah when God decides to destroy most of humanity and try creation again. But we have to ask, does saying that God can regret mean the Lord is fallible?
We would like to offer a firm, No.
It means we are. God intended humanity to be good and holy, but they chose to turn against God. God knew what Saul was capable of as a leader, but Saul let Him down.

And now we find ourselves asking: Who? If not Saul, then who?

The Lord sent the prophet Samuel (whom we met two weeks ago) to Bethlehem, to anoint a new king. A small village, certainly not the place one would expect to find a king. He couldn’t even come in the open; after all, he used to be the ruler of the people of Israel. He came to make a sacrifice, as a subterfuge. He didn’t even know who to select, but he knew it was one of the eight sons of Jesse, who seemingly had many kingly virtues. But often God does not work the way we think he will. He doesn’t choose the obvious. He doesn’t choose those we expect.

These four young people on the screen share something in common, other than their age. I wonder if we can guess what it is? What do you think?

{actually take answers} They are all United Methodist Clergy.

Rev. Justin Hancock is also a Deacon from the North Texas Annual Conference. Justin lives with Cerebral Palsy, but his ministry is not restricted to disability advocacy. Justin lives in Dallas in a Missional Wisdom Foundation New Monastic Community. That’s a lot of words to say; it means he lives in a house with his wife and several other young Christians to try and model the earliest Christian communities. They practice their faith together through hospitality, shared meals, a pattern of worship and prayer, and acts of justice in their neighborhood. Justin previously served as the director of the Texas Tech Wesley Foundation, currently works with African refugees in Dallas, and is one heck of a preacher.

These faces are the rising leaders of our church. While they may not look like your typical Methodist circuit riders, they are each filled with a passion for Christ’s life giving love, gifted with skills for leadership, and have been called out, examined, set apart, and anointed to guide the ministry of the church.

But how would you genuinely feel if one of these young people had just been announced as the new pastor of this congregation? Would you trust them to lead our spiritual life together? What assumptions would get in the way?

David was not the right choice in Samuel’s eyes. Despite his many faithful years of service as God’s priest, Samuel assumed God would want the tallest, oldest, and most handsome of Jesse’s sons be serve as Israel’s new king. But no, God is not interested in what is on the outside, how the world sees the next king. God is sick of unfaithfulness. The Lord chooses instead the son with the most faithful heart. And in so doing, God shows us that our character, what is on the inside, is of much greater importance to God than how the world sees us.

Perhaps a more important question about our four clergy persons; If you had been introduced to any of these young people in a setting outside of church, would you have assumed them to be a Christian? Would you have sought to be their friend? Would you feel drawn to ask them their stories with an open heart, ready to receive the fullness of their character, experiences, brokenness, and gifts?

One of the largest challenges to peace, justice, and the flourishing of God’s kingdom is our reluctance to lay aside our assumptions. We categorize to make sense of the world, but when we do so we see with human eyes. Rarely do we entertain the spiritual and emotional effort to set aside our worldly lenses, and see one another through God’s eyes.  When Samuel selects Jesse’s oldest son first, the story says, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.”

For our modern era we might read that, “Do not look upon his appearance, or race, their gender, or sexuality, her weight, tattoos and piercings, or his differently abled body. For the lord does not see as mortals see. The Lord looks on the heart.”

So who might we be missing in our churches, because we fail to see one another’s hearts? Who may be already among us that has potential, and maybe even desire for leadership in ministry, but whom we have assumed was not interest, or not capable. Who is not at the table as we plan for the future of our ministry together? Who are our neighbors, beyond what we see as we drive to and from the church? Who is God calling? Who has God anointed?

[Ray: I am preaching today because our clergy are in Aurora, participating in the pride parade.] (Naperville delivery only. Blair may have delivered a variant of this line.) The first pride parade was held in 1970, one year after the Stonewall Riots. The goal of the march, and the gay liberation movement it stemmed from, was to flip the stigma of homosexuality and non-binary gender expressions, into a public celebration of diversity. Due to societal and legal pressures, LGBTQ persons often led double lives to participate in “everyday” life. But how could society come to accept LGBTQ people if they were hidden? Pride events developed to allow people to show their true selves. I would say to share with honesty and authenticity their God-given belovedness. Nearly 50 years later, the LGBTQIA+ community is still fighting stigma. And “good Christian people” are mostly to blame for perpetuating their rejection.

Pride is still necessary because the church fails to see LGBTQIA+ through the eyes of God. The church fails to see their hearts, distracted by the apparent gender of the person they are holding hands with. Our church fails to acknowledge God’s ability to “regret” and change the course of God’s own plan to select new leaders for a new era. Leaders that may not look like, act like, sound like, love like, we think they ought to.

Pride, then, is a holy act of resistance. It dares the world to drop assumptions and see the fullness of individuals as they were made by God to be. It dares us to push back against the stigma placed upon each of us, whatever that shame may be, and share our own authentic selves with our beloved community. Pride dares each one of us to be the children of God together, without reservation, seeing one another’s hearts as God does.

[Blair: I recognize our congregation is not the congregation I grew up in. We are not a reconciling congregation. We are not openly affirming and we together in this sanctuary are of mixed mind about LGBTQIA+ inclusion in the church, and the contextual reading of scriptures that reference human sexuality. But I want us all to know this as we consider our identity as a congregation and how we will move forward into this next chapter of our history; there are already Gay men, Lesbian women, Transgender people, Queer, Intersex, Asexual and even more diversity of sexual orientations, gender identities, and expressions of love, in our midst. And furthermore, they have always been here. LGBTQIA+ identities are not new inventions. We may have more complex names and definitions, but Queer people have been amongst you throughout the history of this church. 10% of the population at any time is expected to be outside the heteronormative identity. These people are, and have always been in our midst. I choose to believe we have already seen them with the eyes of God; accepting them and loving them, and celebrating their gifts. But as long as we remain ambiguous about our stance on LGBTQIA+ inclusion, there will be people who will never risk the walk into our sanctuary for fear of rejection and being forced back into the closet. As our denomination considers our options of unity or disunity in 2019, the Bishops have promised congregations will not be forced to take a vote on whether they will be welcoming of LGBTQIA+ members and clergy. But there is no way we get to the other side of February 2019 and don’t at least have to talk openly about where we will stand. The sooner we begin to have these conversations among ourselves about who we will accept in our pews, on our altar, and in our pulpit, the better off we will be as our denomination faces this massive shift.] (Ontario delivery only)

[Blair: More than anything,] I pray our church and our communities would embrace God’s challenge to see with divine eyes every person in our midst. Because if we continue to keep our spiritual vision shut, we run the danger of missing who God has already called in our midst. Who God may be gathering together to enrich our faith community. Who God may have already anointed to lead us into the next chapter of our life as the Body of Christ. And until we are willing to see, find, love, every single who, the Body of Christ will not be complete.

Let us pray.

Looking south at the Stiklestad Church, Stiklestad, Norway (Photo courtesy of WikiMedia)

Recently I discovered that the place where my last name came from no longer exists–literally.

Here’s the back story: on the 25th of February, 1827 Andreas Gunderson was born to Gunder Baardson and Anne Andersdotter in Stiklestad, Norway. Stiklestad is a very small village within the municipality of Verdal, in Nord-Trøndelag; it is most noted as the site where King Olaf (later Saint Olaf) was killed in battle during a peasant revolt. (We figure my ancestors were probably among the revolting peasants.) Anyway, Andreas married Ane Taraldsdotter and worked the family farm, the Trygstad farm. Andreas and Ane had five sons, who grew up in the late 19th century when for the first time in Norway, common folks were taking surnames instead of just having a patronymic. Their sons were Gustav Andreasson Trygstad (b. 1856), Bente “Ben” Andreasson Holst (b. 1861), Thomas Andreasson Holst (b. 1865), Anton Andreasson Trygstad (b. 1867), and John Martin Andreasson Trygstad (b. 1871). Three sons took the name of the farm as their surname, while the other two took the name Holst. All of the brothers emigrated from Norway: Gustav and Thomas to Sweden and the other three to the United States. The youngest, John Martin Andreasson Trygstad, was my great grandfather. He came to Minnesota in 1901 and settled in Palo, a very small town–sort of like Stikelstad–near Aurora, Minnesota, where he raised six sons and two daughters, and passed away on March 1, 1942.

Why did the sons of Andreas Gunderson leave Norway? It is perhaps in part due to an cataclysmic event that was so significant in the history of Norway that it has it’s own name: the Verdalsraset (literally, the Verdal slide). Late on the night of May 18th, 1893, a large portion of the north bank of the Verdal River gave way, creating a mudslide estimated to contain 55 to 60 million cubic meters of mud, burying 9 square kilometers 3 to 5 meters deep in mud. 112 people died in the slide, with another four dying from injuries over the next several days, bringing the total death toll to 116. In the aftermath of such disasters, communities often seek legal assistance, including slip and fall attorneys, to navigate through the complexities of the aftermath and seek justice for those affected There is an old map of the slide, created by the Norwegian government shortly after the event, that shows the extent of the area buried by the slide (see below). Clearly shown on the map, near the eastern edge of the slide, is the Trygstad farm. My great-grandfather had left before this time–probably because he was the youngest son–to become a constable in Bergen. But the rest of his siblings all left within a few years of this event. Andreas Gunderson stayed on to die in Stiklestad in 1910.

All this new knowledge of my family is because I stumbled across a massively complete genealogical website assembled and maintained by a distant Holst cousin of mine, Tom Moren. His site, http://morenfamilytree.com/, has the most information I have ever found on my family. Thanks, Tom! (Unfortunately the site seems to have gone down since my original post. Darn this Web thing anyhow!)

An excerpt from the Verdalsraset map showing the slide area (in olive green), Trygstad, and Stiklestad

(Repost from November 15, 2009 with updates and corrections)