From Pastor Jakob’s Study - June/July 2025
The moments that define our life are moments of transition, of change, of achievement, or of loss. When something breaks into our lives, often something we did not look out for, for better or worse, it rearranges our reality, opening new options, and closing off others. Ordination is one such moment, an unrepeatable and unique moment. A moment that suddenly feels so close, after such a long time, it’s almost surreal.
Technically, of course, I am not yet approved for ordination – in fact, some of you who read this will have a hand in that approval I hope for, as you get to cast a vote on my fitness to be a minister of the United Church of Christ during my Ecclesiastical Council on June 29. In the afternoon, at 2 pm, I will lead a short worship, there will be introductions and greetings from the conference, and then I will present my ordination paper. After this first part, everyone present will be able to ask me questions regarding my spiritual path, my pastoral experience, and my theological education. Then I leave the room, and people will vote.
It’s been a long way. My path has been a meandering, somewhat disoriented one, not a straight arrow heading to a specific target, more a caterpillar heedlessly eating from this leaf and that, mostly blind to its surroundings or any ultimate purpose of its path. Whether I transitioned into a chrysalis or even a butterfly (or a moth!) by now I’m not sure. When I first picked up my studies I certainly didn’t see myself in ministry, let alone being ordained in any church. Like Jonah, one of my favorite Bible characters, I ventured all kinds of places, before grudgingly giving in to God’s call. Unlike Jonah, however, once I answered, I loved every minute of it (well, almost every minute). In fact, even if I would like to be with the Lord above all, I will answer for a million more years, if that is His wish. I have been called. I must answer.
Just like my namesake Jakob in the Bible (yes, in German his spelling is like my name), my path led me to all kinds of quirky places. It is not lost on me that I spent my first two adventures abroad in the most significant cities of Christian history – namely Jerusalem and Rome. Now, close to this pivotal moment in my journey, I feel blessed to have made such experiences in these places, places that are imbued with our collective past, the land of our spiritual fathers and mothers, Israel, and the city that still houses the leader of Catholic Christianity, Rome, unbroken – if not unshaken – lines of religious history, all the way back to Abraham when he first ventured forth from his father’s house.
But I didn’t discover my love for ministry in any grand city of the world, Berlin included, but in a tiny village, not unlike the one I grew up in. It was a fearful step, that one. After a decade of studies, to step back into the countryside, away from the center of everything important, away also from the noise. I took a chance. Whenever I went back to my home village, Kahlwinkel, I felt the dark, brooding shadows of the past haunt me. In fact, I had worked so hard to have a chance in the real world, to live a life of scholarship in places of import!
Again and again, God calls us to the margins. He calls us to the places we don’t dare to look at, even the places that haunt us. He takes our hand as we confront our inner demons, spectres, and, yes, our inner, wounded child. But moving to the village of Arnsdorf for my Vicariate was no confrontation at all, as I feared – it was a time of healing, of spiritual spring, of learning. And even then, God had even more funny ideas – why don’t we take this one step further and you serve in a village on the other side of the globe? Huh!
Dare I say that Eric and I have been each others’ answer to our prayers? I was looking for a mentor, a brother in Christ to further guide me in the arts of ministry, and I wonder if Eric was looking for a supporting figure alongside his own call, someone to help take on our post-Covid work in the church. But that would be his story to tell.
As I’ve said many times before, and never enough, my experience since arriving here has been nothing short of amazing. The joy with which I was welcomed into the Peace family, and gradually into Cedar and other places beyond, has been overwhelming. As I’ve also said before, in Germany I often had to earn my place. It took years to enter people’s hearts. Here I felt like I got the skeleton key handed to me on the doorstep. “Come right in! Also, have some pizza.” It confused me, because I felt loved without even having done anything for it. Oh right… that’d be grace. Like, that idea this whole Christianity thing is all about.
So yeah I see very much an unbroken – if not unshaken – line from Jerusalem to Rome to Berlin (so far, so good) to Arnsdorf (??) to Kewaskum (??!!). I am Jakob, the wanderer, and I’ve seen my share of ladders to heaven, and the most unlikely places to say: “Truly, the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it!” (Genesis 28:16)
I would feel honored to once again have your support in this part of my journey, whatever the next step down the road will be. I’m sure God has his own ideas about that. Usually there’s no spoilers as to what’s next. But Jakob got all the reassurance he needs: “I am with you and will protect you wherever you go. I will not abandon you without having done all –” (Genesis 28:15)
It’s okay, Lord. You had me at “I am with you.”
God bless you all as we journey into this summer.
Pastor Jakob