In October at Emmanuel, we have a tradition of sharing our “Emmanuel Stories.” These are stories of impactful ministry that our members share during the sermon time. Bonnie Faust shared this story on Sunday, October 11th:
When I was asked to share how the church has shaped my life… my heart swelled a little. Because for me, the church isn’t just a place I’ve gone. It’s the place that has held me. It’s the place that has shaped me. It’s the place that has carried me through every season of my life.
I grew up in a family that loved the church, and they brought me into its life from the very beginning. Because of that, I learned early on that the church isn’t perfect—it’s a gathering of broken people, each of us carrying our own stories, wounds, and hopes. We come with different backgrounds, different dreams, different opinions, different politics… and yet somehow, God keeps drawing us toward one another. The church has overjoyed me. It has frustrated me. It has stretched me. But it has always been central to who I am.
I’ve worshiped in so many places—Methodist churches as a child, evangelical churches in my youth, Episcopalian, Baptist, Friends meetings, and others—before finally landing in the Lutheran tradition as an adult. And somewhere along that journey, I realized something that changed me: every group gets a few things right. Every group carries a piece of truth. And it breaks my heart when we fight over the pieces instead of celebrating the whole. Sometimes I worry that our inability to love one another despite disagreement will be our undoing.
But this summer… God gave me a glimpse of something different. Something beautiful. Something that felt like the church God intended from the beginning. Three young pastors—one quiet and shy, one who I think looks more like a gentle biker than a pastor, and our own Pastor Ethan—came together and created our version of Dinner Church. And I’m telling you… It has been one of the most meaningful experiences of my life.
I went to all four seatings. And each time, I sat with new people. And every time, I heard stories of faith, hope, fear, longing, and love. We laughed. We listened. We shared. And our common ground—our shared humanity—shone so much brighter than our differences. In those moments, I didn’t see a church fading away. I saw a family being born.
For people like my husband and me—whose family lives far away, and who have walked through more than a few faith-testing seasons—the church has been our lifeline. You have carried us through job loss, financial worry, illness, grief, and loneliness. You have been our people when life felt heavy. And now, in this beautiful glimpse of what God has intended all along… you are sending me to seminary.
God is good. And so is God’s church. Thank you… and thank God.
Our final Dinner Church gathering last week was smaller, but somehow even more Spirit-filled. We shared what we loved about it, and we all agreed: it’s too good to let it end. We want it to continue. So please pray for that. Please watch for it. And if it continues, please come. Because we are family—and for some of us, this church family is all we have.
Today is my precious husband’s birthday. I won’t share his age, but I would love for you to join me in singing him “Happy Birthday.” (A spirited rendition of “Happy Birthday” is sung.)
Thank you, church family. Truly.