Going mental

Quitting cold brew, while living through a dystopian nightmare in my community, while also packing to move overseas: bad combination. Every morning I wake at 4 AM, grinding my teeth, and looping about all the fear and anxiety permeating everyone's daily lives right now. I can't think of a worse time to be leaving our home and neighbors. This is really hard. 

Our pastor Adam gave a brilliant sermon, and midway through he began to cry, and then we all did a little, and it was the thing we needed most, because everyone is in shock and grieving. Everything feels unreal. 

I would like to write more, but I'm going mental and there are protests to attend, refugees and immigrants to help protect, and socks to fold into little balls so they squish into the crannies of our suitcases. We leave in 9 days. All I can say is: Viva la Resistance!

Adam's sermon: 

"This has been a hard week. 2,000 ICE agents sent into the Twin Cities, and I don't want to speak for everyone, but for many of us, this has felt like a hostile action directed at us by our own government. And that is scary.

I saw a video of a pastor telling his story of ICE agents pointing guns in his face, and taunting him, "Are you scared now?" And when he said no, and asked if he was being arrested, they said, "You're white, you won't be that fun."

We've probably all seen videos of this kind of behavior. And of course, we saw the killing of Renee Good.

A few of us were at an event on Friday night at Masjid D'awah in St. Paul. And one of our City Council members said, "It's been an exhausting week, partly because of the intensity of the emotions." And it's true. We're flooded with images and sounds that evoke intense emotions. I've vacillated between rage, and sadness, and fear for what's coming. I've found myself wishing bad things on people I consider my enemies. And it's tempting to fantasize about what we would do, if we weren't followers of Jesus.

In our house church this week, we read Psalm 139. And most of the psalm is a poem about God's intimate and perfect knowledge of us– "you were the one who knit me together in my mother's womb; wherever I am, you are with me; you are acquainted with all of my ways; you know my thoughts before I've said them; I am fearfully and wonderfully made."

But at the end, the writer changes tone. "O that you would kill the wicked, O God, and that the bloodthirsty would depart...Do I not hate those who hate you, O LORD? Do I not loathe those who rise up against you? I hate them with perfect hatred; I count them my enemies." I have to admit, I liked that part. I found it cathartic. I identified with it. But the psalm doesn't end there. It ends like this: "Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my thoughts. See if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting."

How powerful, to lay bare that inner conflict. They want God's justice; they yearn for the bloodthirsty to be dealt with. They proudly proclaim their hatred of the wicked. But then, "Search me, O God. And transform any wickedness in my spirit."

I am conflicted, and I'm guessing many of us are conflicted, because we want justice. And we might want to see our enemies suffer. And we might want to take matters into our own hands. To "fight back." These are real temptations. But we know better. We follow what the early Christians called The Way. The way of Jesus; that this is how God's justice, and God's power, are worked out, and manifested.

I was reminded of this, I think providentially this week. I'm part of a group of Central Plains Conference pastors, and we're reading a book called The Patient Ferment of the Eary Church. And this group was supposed to meet on Thursday, and so I'd been doing the reading the last couple of days. And as ICE has been coming into the Twin Cities, and after Renee Good was killed, this book was in my mind. And it was telling me something.

The thesis is that the early church, and early church writers, spent a lot of time thinking about patience. I would say they spent much more time on patience than evangelism, but actually, they came to see that the two were intertwined.

Patience was not well-regarded in the ancient world. It was considered a form of weakness. Power and decisiveness were valued. If you wanted something, and you were strong enough, you should take it. You would only be patient if you had to be. Patience was for slaves and servants.

But within that culture, Christians chose to be patient; or, they at least tried. They practiced patience and forbearance with their enemies. Their refusal of violence was an act of patience. And they believed patience was rooted in God's character: God is patient, and working inexorably across the centuries to accomplish God's mission, and in the fullness of time has revealed God's self in Jesus Christ. The incarnation itself was an act of patience–becoming a human being is not the most effective way of inaugurating God's kingdom, at least in our eyes. And, patience is rooted in our trust in God; we do not try to manipulate or control outcomes. We simply follow the way of Jesus, and patiently trust in God's action. And in the author's words, this leads to living incautiously, and with risk.

That's a surprising combination, isn't it? That patience and risk go hand-in-hand.

I want to emphasize that patience does not mean apathy or inaction. It means following in the way of Jesus, and trusting that God is at work, even if we don't immediately see it, even if God isn't working on our timeline.

And this idea of a timeline brings me, actually, to one of this week's lectionary passages, from the Book of Acts. Acts 10, starting at verse 34. This is Peter's speech to the gentile Cornelius and his friends. Peter and Cornelius have each received visions from God; and these visions have brought them together in Cornelius's house. The whole thing is a mystery to both groups. And this is what Peter says:

“I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every people anyone who fears him and practices righteousness is acceptable to him. You know the message he sent to the people of Israel, preaching peace by Jesus Christ—he is Lord of all. That message spread throughout Judea, beginning in Galilee after the baptism that John announced: how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power; how he went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him. We are witnesses to all that he did both in Judea and in Jerusalem. They put him to death by hanging him on a tree, but God raised him on the third day and allowed him to appear, not to all the people but to us who were chosen by God as witnesses and who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead. He commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one ordained by God as judge of the living and the dead. All the prophets testify about him that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name.”

Peter has been brought to a stranger's house. He doesn't know what's happening. But the message he gives Cornelius is simple. It is simply the story of Jesus's ministry, death, and resurrection. This is the story. It's God's story, and it's Peter's story, and it is the church's story.

And as he tells this story, what happens? The Holy Spirit falls on Cornelius and the Gentiles. And Peter and his friends are astonished.

And what I want us to take away from this story, today, is pretty simple. It's that God has called us to this story, and has placed us in this story. And we choose this story. And the story is broad, and it is long. It is the story of God's redemption of the world. That God created the world, and all that is in it; that God adopted a certain people, the people of Israel, to reveal God's self to the world; that God led them out of slavery in Egypt, and made a covenant with them; that God was with them in the wilderness; and was with them through their failures as a kingdom; was with them through their exile in a foreign land, and then in their return; and then, years and years later, God fulfilled the promise of a messiah in the person of Jesus Christ; and that he went about doing good, and casting out evil; and that he was crucified, and died, and after three days God raised him from the dead. And he empowered his followers with the power of the Holy Spirit; and that this led to the breaking down of barriers and the inclusion of the Gentiles; and that he promised to return, and that God would redeem all things, and destroy evil. [The the Lamb will destroy all forms of the Beast]

This story has power. It is more powerful than the story Christian nationalists are trying to tell; it dwarfs and swallows and devours smaller, pathetic stories that people tell to puff themselves up through violence and intimidation and force. This story swallows up death. This story is God's revelation; it is the key.

And so we can be patient. We can be calm. And we can live incautiously, and with risk. Trusting in the Way.

When we are worried, scared; when we are outraged, when we're tempted to hate the wicked with perfect hatred; we need to tell ourselves the story. The big story. When Peter tells the story of Jesus to Cornelius, the Holy Spirit falls on them. And things that would have been completely unimaginable happen. So let's tell it, over and over, to ourselves, and to each other. I pray that this story sinks deeper, and deeper into us. And I pray that God uses us to reveal its truth and power. Amen."

- Adam Harder Nussbaum, January 11, 2026, used with permission