That’s me. At one time, my partner Megan worked for Luther Seminary in St. Paul, during which time she began a support blog for the spouses of seminary students in the distance learning program she coordinated. So surely it’s only …
Hot to the Presses
My pastoral position is, officially, a 3/4 time position so I have been filling the other quarter or so of my working life at a large retail store that sells outdoor-inspired clothing in the Grand Forks mall (I still work there for about another week, so I can’t name the store on the blog).
For various reasons — e.g. scheduling, flexibility, personnel, life-suck — I have resigned from that position and intend/hope/am-crazy-to-think that I can make up the small amount of income writing. I’ve done a fair amount of writing for a 27 year-old, (see tab called “Writing” above), and up until now I’ve really enjoyed it. Now, I’m interested to see how I enjoyable I find writing when approached with more intentionality and consistency.
I’ve got a few projects lined up for the next six weeks or so, but keep me in mind if you have — or know of — any writing gigs that need gigging.
I just don’t know how more formal writing elsewhere will affect this here blog. I’ve kept it going for nearly three years, and with me in three very different places (intern/student/pastor and Scotland/Georgia/North Dakota). I’ve managed to pop out 417 posts, receive 168,000 hits, and almost 1500 comments. I really enjoy blogging, even when I can’t find the write out my ideas. It helps me look at the world through another lens. And though I will say I’ve felt overly tame and stodgy in my posts since I entered the call search process and received this call, the blog gives me a good outlet for reflection (even if most of my post’s comments occur on facebook these days rather than this wordpress blog).
So, world, there’s the update on my personal life and finances. If you have any brilliant words of advice, advise. If not, you still don’t need to call me “writer” just yet. “Adam” works plenty fine.
Big Grand Forks News: Fighting Sioux nickname, logo is retired
Big news in Grand Forks today: the UND “Fighting Sioux” nickname and logo is being retired. After decades of discussions, it’s done. The ND board of higher education voted yesterday, and President Kelley now begins the process of deciding on a new logo and nickname.
As you might imagine, this decision is just a wee bit controversial. A new Facebook group has already announced a protest and picture to occur today at 2:30 p.m. at the Ralph Engelstad Arena (that’d be the hockey palace in town).
I really don’t want to debate the merits of the decision in this post, as I’ll be away from my computer this weekend, and it’s not like I’d actually shed any new light on things. This wikipedia article covers the issue in general.
My outsider’s point of view over the last few years is that, eventually this was bound to happen. Different sides will call it different things: progress, political correctness, scoffing at history, racist or overly sensitive, and any number of other things. But since a NCAA ruling a few years ago, the Fighting Sioux logo became a liability both financially and in terms of UND’s national reputation.
Growing up in Tallahassee — home of the Florida State Seminoles — I’m not exactly a stranger to similar debates. Yes, the Seminole tribe of Florida supports the use of the nickname, symbol, and other “Seminole inspired” images. Yes, there is a unique and supportive relationship between the Seminole tribe in Florida and FSU. But there’s plenty of dissenting voices around FSU as well, whether from the Oklahoma Seminole tribe, or the protesters outside every home FSU football game. Such debates will always occur.
What strikes me now that the decision to retire has been made, is that beginning today the true character of UND alumni, Grand Forks residents, and fans will show. How many racist comments will appear on news articles and Facebook pages (I just checked, there’s some already)? Will frustration lead to dialog and healthy grieving, or will protests turn wholly negative? Will those who disagree with the decision do so with both their individual feelings,and the university’s and community’s best interest in mind?
To be honest, my thoughts immediately turn to my experiences in the local and national Presbyterian church. Sometimes our reaction to change is impulsive, drastic, and damaging. Sometimes, though, with solid leadership and clear heads we seize the opportunity to mourn for what was, and begin to imagine a new future. After big change, we need opportunities for dialog and expressing our profound disagreement. The spirit of those exchanges often determines how stakeholders react down the line — to fight or fold.
I hope that President Kelley, leaders from the Sioux tribes, and members of the board of higher ed will now lead in ways that allow for showings of public grief and tolerate continued disagreement, even as they move to choose a new mascot and logo of which we might be proud.
These Things Did Thomas Count as Real
I’m not preaching this week — I’ll be gone on a Presbytery youth retreat — but something in the John lectionary text piques my interest. It’s the “doubting Thomas” text that always comes after Easter. For an old sermon of mine, go here. But here’s my question: Why does Jesus have scars from the crucifixion?
I’m sure there’s lots of fancy theological reasons for Jesus’ scars — the suffering servant, the crucified one always even as the resurrected one — but, for me at least, it’s a conundrum. I mean, I figure if God raised Jesus from the dead, if he was dead, not breathing, kaput for three days and then again alive. Not sleeping — DEAD — and then alive again: Why couldn’t God have healed the scars on his hands and side. Jesus heart was beating again, he didn’t seem to have a limp, but Jesus still had the marks of his nails. What? I don’t get it.
One of my favorite hymn text of Thomas Troeger’s in on this very passage. According to Troeger’s take on Thomas, at least, the scars are essential. The line with the phrase “bitter certainties” is the one that sticks with me the most, since true faith is really less about certainty than a continuing seeking understanding. So I’ll continue to wrestle with the scars. Maybe, in time, they’ll make sense. Maybe not, too. And that’s ok.
These things did Thomas count as real
These things did Thomas count as real:
The warmth of blood, the chill of steel,
The grain of wood, the heft of stone,
The last frail twitch of blood and bone.
His brittle certainties denied
That one could live when one had died,
Until his fingers read like Braille
The markings of the spear and nail.
May we, O God, by grace believe
And, in believing, still receive
The Christ Who held His raw palms out
And beckoned Thomas from his doubt.
-Thomas H. Troeger, 1984 Psalter Hymnal of the Christian Reformed Church
Maundy Thursday Sermon
Adam J. Copeland
First Presbyterian Church of Hallock, Minn.
April 1, 2010
Maundy Thursday
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
There’s some things that you only really need to remember once a year. And then once you remember it, you forget by the time another year comes around again. I can never seem to remember, for instance, where we store our big suitcase that we use about once a year. Every time I put it back in storage I think, “Ok, remember where you put this,” but then, about a year later, I’ve forgotten again.
Some of you might be having the same sort of feeling around this time of year: now where did I put that fertilizer I use every spring for my garden? Where are those lawnmower keys? Where did I store the lighter for the BBQ grill. Or — and unfortunately this one applies to me — where, oh where, did my golf swing go?
Every year I also have to remind myself of the meaning of Maundy Thursday. It’s one of those churchy words that we use each year, “Maundy,” but its significance can be lost in the previous year’s facts and figures.
“Maundy” means “commandment.” It comes from an old Latin word that sounds similar, and we call tonight “Maundy Thursday” because we read the scripture reading from John’s gospel in which Jesus gives his disciples a new commandment.
I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. 35 By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
This “new commandment” might not seem that new. “Isn’t God all about love from the very beginning?” But the love Jesus is speaking of here, the love Jesus is showing here isn’t your ordinary love. It’s a love that’s never been seen before.
It seems like the Easter season is especially a time for Hallmark cards, Easter bunnies, and nice hopeful spring sayings. “April showers bring May flowers” we say. Or , as Robin Williams once said, “Spring is nature’s way of saying, ‘Let’s party!’” … Continue Reading
Palm/Passion Sunday Meditation
Palm/Passion Sermon
Luke 19-23
What more is there to say? What words could ever make sense of these stories? What explanation could ever suffice? What more to say?
The stories we read today are from the core of the gospels; absolutely essential to the faith. As the hymn “God is Here” puts it: “here the cross has central place.”
So we meet to tell the old old story, once again. Of Jesus’ triumphal entrance to Jerusalem, of his shared meal with the disciples, his betrayal and Peter’s denial, of the farcical trial and, eventually, Jesus’ death on a cross.
At the foot of the cross we stand today, with palms still green, fresh from welcoming Jesus to Jerusalem, now sullied with blood and sin.
So as we read the story, we wonder, “Who’s story is this? Who did we read about today?”
First, surely, it is God’s story. God’s story of goodness over evil. God’s story of not abandoning us, even when we deny our Lord, even as we still disobey. It is God’s story of care for God’s children throughout the ages.
Second, of course, it is Jesus’ story. A sad one now, but infinitely powerful as well. A cross for an innocent man. A life of sacrifice, a life of perfection, a life showing the way to live — caring for others, claiming the good and rebuking evil. Bringing healing and wholeness to the world. This is, for certain, Jesus’ story.
But, finally, the story is ours as well. The story of us denying our Lord just as Peter did. The story of us betraying the truth as did Judas. The story of our lack of sacrifice, and tendency to shout “crucify him” with our actions. But, thanks be to God, it is our story of redemption as well. Our story — God’s story, Jesus’ story, but our story — of grace, forgiveness, of new life through power of the Holy Spirit.
So perhaps there is nothing more to say. Perhaps it is best to allow the words of scripture, the story of God’s provision, our denial, and Jesus’ forgiveness to speak for itself. Maybe words, as powerful as they are, are not the thing for today.
Instead, let us just reflect. Reflect on how our story intersects with God’s story. Reflect on the cross, its power to forgive, and our grateful response. Reflect on how we must return, a week from now, to look at the cross again. But then….empty. Empty, as will be the tomb. Reflect because after reflection, after contemplating these stories afresh, reflection might lead to action.
There is nothing more to say. But there is always something more to do. Reflect, believe, and respond: Jesus, the crucified one, is Lord of all. Amen.







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