This past week, I traveled to Princeton, NJ for a meeting of the seminary’s alumni council. Arriving early Monday morning, the first thing I realized was that I wasn’t in Arizona anymore. The cool temperature of 60 degrees was darn-right freezing for me, it having been 118 degrees when I left Phoenix! Despite a few changes to the Newark airport, things seemed pretty familiar about this part of my journey: getting on the commuter train that runs between Trenton and Manhattan, waiting for the ticket engineer to punch my ticket, catching the little train from Princeton Junction into Princeton proper, and walking up the hill from the train station onto the seminary campus. The air had clearly turned toward fall, and the leaves at the uppermost reaches of the trees were beginning to tinge toward red and yellow. 

With my first view of the seminary came back a flood of memories. It had been 31 years to the month that I had begun my seminary career, little knowing then that I would spend the next 13 years of my life associated with that campus both as a student and instructor. These were formative years for me, journeying through three degrees of theological education, spending a lot of time singing in the seminary choir, and making good friends. 

It is certainly a privilege for me to be invited back to Princeton Seminary’s campus to serve on the alumni council. This group met for two and a half days to learn about current enrollment, changes to the makeup of the student body, and how we as alumni can serve the institution and its mission. There were only twelve of us, and at one point I looked around the room, and I realized that I was the oldest person on the council (at least in terms of when I started seminary)! We had a wonderful time getting to know our fellow members of the council and about some of the seminary’s new and innovative approaches to theological education, including the development of a “farminary” where students learn about the intersection of faith and ecology. The seminary is also working on online programming that serves an ever-widening group of people interested in some form of theological education. 

Here’s some more things we learned about the seminary that reflect changes in our denomination and society: 

• There are currently only 313 students at the seminary. In my early days there, there were around 600 students. 

• Only 21% of the seminary’s student population is now Presbyterian (PCUSA). Thirty-one years ago, that number would have been closer to 55%. 

• The second largest group of students list themselves as “Non-Denomination” or “No-Affiliation.” 

•  54% of the student population is female while only 44% is male. 

• 49% is ethnically white, while 18% is African American. 

• 17% are international students, with 17 students from South Korea, 7 from Nigeria, and 26 from 19 other countries.

Princeton Theological Seminary was founded 212 years ago. It has seen tremendous changes in those two centuries. The future of theological education is, I believe, in good hands at PTS. Its current leaders (with Dr. Jonathan Walton, who preached here at Pinnacle last December, at its head) are finding ways to ensure that theological education will continue in Princeton for generations to come. 

I left my brief time at the seminary renewed in my appreciation for the education I received there and renewed in my confidence that the seminary still holds a vital place for Presbyterians and Christians around the world. 

At the meeting I became reacquainted with a student who finished his degrees 18 years ago, at the same time I completed my career there. His name is Edward Buri (but he goes by Buri - pronounced Foori.) Buri came from Nairobi to PTS 21 years ago, to study and learn all he could to serve his church (The Presbyterian Church of East Africa) back in Kenya. This he has done. Buri is now married and has two young children, who were terrified for their father having to fly halfway around the world to come to a meeting in Princeton. At one point Buri and I found that we were both about to head out for a walk through Princeton town and the university. We joined up together and had the chance to share about our lives and ministry. I told him about Pinnacle, and he told me all about the church he serves. 

At one point we passed Nassau Presbyterian Church, and Buri said, “I did an internship here when I was a student.” I let him know that our senior pastor did an internship with Nassau’s pastor. I said to Buri, “Let’s go inside and say hello.” He was a bit nervous, but we marched up to the door and through the intercom let them know who was at the door. My name got us nowhere (even though I had taught 6th-grade Sunday school there 25 years before). But when I said that I was Buri, the secretary came running to the door to let us in. “Buri,” she said, “It’s so wonderful to see you after all these years. My children are in college now, but they remember you so fondly.” Buri and I continued our walk about and headed back to the seminary. The whole time, I kept thinking to myself, “What an amazing thing that a place like Princeton Seminary made it possible for two people from opposite sides of the world to come together as brothers in Christ, and continue in our zeal for Christ’s church.

At Princeton Seminary, my life intersected with so many people! I think that nearly 700 “friends” of mine on Facebook are associated in some way with the seminary, let alone Pastor Leah and Pastor Erik and other former pastors here! I am grateful that I can serve the seminary in such a capacity as to increase awareness of its ongoing mission. Thanks be to God for the institution’s continuing commitment to carrying tradition forward and changing to meet the needs of our own time. I look forward to the next time Princeton Seminary folks will be coming to our Pinnacle campus (in January 2026). 

Green blends into yellow and orange as the plants prepare for their next adventure. Bright golden hues paint the mountains. The air starts to cool in the evenings. Not to be bested, the sunsets turn up the drama with magenta skies. The change in our seasons emerges. Ever the more subtle in the desert, but still present. Fall is upon us. 

Ecclesiastes chapter 3 reminds us that there is a time or a season for everything. Three “times” that struck me amongst many others in the passage include, “a time to embrace,” “a time to speak,” and “a time to love,” We can take inspiration from these times mentioned as we transition into this fall season.  Ask yourself,  what does the fall season represent for you? What times are God calling you to be a part of? And what new challenges can you embrace during this fall season?

I’ve always loved fall for a variety of reasons, but one that is especially meaningful to me is how people come together in the fall. Get-togethers of all sorts happen. Many places offer fall festivals, fall sports are in full swing, and friendsgivings occur.  For me, fall is a time for gathering, for enjoying, and for building community together. In fact, we have so many great events here at church, gather with us this October and invite friends or make new ones. You can even challenge yourself to have a conversation with someone “new-to-you” at the church this fall season, as I am going to do. Maybe you have seen someone who caught your attention on a Sunday morning, but the timing wasn’t right to introduce yourself. Now is the time. Put on your best smile, shine the light Jesus gave you, and get out there. Can’t wait to see you and your new friends at the next event on campus this fall season.

If you would have told me in high school I’ll be a ‘lifelong learner’ I would have scoffed at the idea. Maybe because of my limited understanding of how we learn. In high school, learning meant sitting at a desk, listening to your teacher for 90 minutes, and demonstrating you learned what was needed through exams or quizzes. To be honest, it wasn’t fun with the exception of our Environmental Science class. 

Our teacher, Mrs. DiMaria brought science to life. She brought in experiments and illustrations that were relatable and engaging. We were encouraged to demonstrate what we’ve learned through modes that we were interested in. Some presented projects through poetry or song, while others created models of our town that show ground water runoff. One year I was fortunate enough to be chosen amongst four other students to go to Washington D.C. 

We piled into the high speed AmTrack train and in less than three hours arrived in the capital. We navigated walking through the city together, dropped our bags at the hotel and changed into the most professional clothing our 15 year old selves owned. We learned about lobbying and had the chance to do so with our Pennsylvania State Senator. The next day we had the privilege of speaking to members of congress about the importance of environmental education in our schools. We spoke at the same podium Martin Luther King, Jr. had once used. The rest of our time away, Mrs. D took us to many museums and introduced us to Ethiopian food. 

This left such an impression on my understanding of education that I decided to major in science and education. I had the opportunity to shadow Mrs. D for a semester–witnessing again the special way she engaged her students. And when it came time to student teach, you bet every class had something fun to do. Can you suck an egg into a thin necked vase? Learning the skeletal system? Hannah Montana has a song and dance for that! Mentos in soda is a must. And to learn about germs, I used a special powder that can’t be seen to the naked eye but when you turn on the black light—germs spread everywhere!! We had so much fun. 

Soon after I discerned God’s calling to ministry, but the lessons I’ve learned from Mrs. D and my desire to make learning practical, relatable and engaging still remain. The thing is–the Word of God is alive and active (Hebrews 4:12). As Christians, we are lifelong learners, constantly discerning how God’s Spirit is leading us, speaking to us, and transforming us through holding up whatever we are experiencing in life through the lens of what we know about the love of God and grace of Jesus through Scripture. Sometimes we can do this on our own. Sometimes this happens in worship or sermons or small group Bible studies. Sometimes this happens when you're serving at Andre House, Vista Del Camino, or teaching youth group. And sometimes it happens when you board a train and take off for a whole new place. 

No matter where you are though–you are always provided an opportunity to learn anew. May today bring you a surprise revelation or reminder. May you take on the posture of lifelong learner.

Why did God make mosquitos? I’ll never forget receiving a video from a church member at my former church in which their 5-year-old son was asking the question. Did I have an answer? I didn’t. But I loved receiving the question because more than anything else, my hope is that the church will be a place where people bring their questions.

Curiosity and questioning are key to developing faith. This is particularly true in younger years, but it continues throughout our lives. One of the most common reasons people cite when walking away from the church is reaching the conclusion that Christianity, or at least the church, is not a place where they can be honest about their thoughts.

I remember seeing a license plate frame: “God said it. I believe it. That settles it.” I laughed, but then I realized that it captures well the culture that many churches created – a culture of absolutes and a culture that leads thinking people away from the church.

A friend of mine once told me that they asked a question about God in the car on the way to church. Their father was silent as they drove and clearly didn’t have the answer. They pulled into the parking lot and he finally spoke: “Whatever you do at church today, do not ask that question.” The questions didn’t go away, but the questions stopped coming to church, and so did the woman.

Part of the challenge is that for a long time the lessons we learned in the church were contradicted by lessons we learned in school. In particular, Sunday school lessons often focused on Old Testament stories, like Noah’s Ark, or Jonah, and they were taught in a way that left little room for interpretation or an understanding of the deeper, theological message behind the story. Noah is less about all animals being descended from two of each kind and Jonah is less about the question of whether a big fish could swallow a person.

And yet, if the facts of these stories are the focus, when a child later learns that it is impossible for all animals to be descended from pairs, then they begin to lose confidence in other things they’ve learned in the church context. These Old Testament stories, in particular, were intended as teaching tools to convey greater truths about God, humanity, and the interplay between the two.

If you find yourself struggling with this idea that the Old Testament stories need to be examined more closely to find “something more” than the facts of the story, you need only look at the first two chapters of Genesis (which are also the first two chapters of the Bible). The very first two stories in the Bible are two distinct and inconsistent stories of the creation of the world! Take a look at them and what you’ll see is that each creation story presents possibilities and even more so, presents a glimpse into the nature of God and God’s desire for humanity.

At Pinnacle, our Pinnacle Kids program takes a wonderful approach to the thoughtful teaching of lessons that seek to form faith in our youngest disciples. Equally so, our youth ministry seeks to engage the minds of our young people. So, programmatically, we’re covered! But the development of faith in the lives of children (and adults!) is not limited to curriculum and classes. Clearly, from the examples above, parents, grandparents, church leaders – we all have a role in fostering an environment that welcomes questions, encourages thoughtful examination of scripture, and is willing to acknowledge mystery.

A few weeks ago I shared with our children a new offering called “Ask Pastor Erik!” which is designed to provide the children of the church the opportunity to ask me questions which I’ll answer either individually, during church school, and sometimes during worship. I told them that I might not know the answers, but that I would try to find them. The key here is to send the clear message that questions are welcome here.

And while that’s the message I want to convey to our youngest disciples, it is a message for all of us. Feel free, dear ones, to “Ask Pastor Erik!”

Mosquitos are more than a pest! So much of our ecosystem depends on them for food and mosquitos are pollinators, feeding on nectar, and enabling plants to grow and flourish. What an amazing God we have who designed a world with such complexities. I’m so grateful that I was asked that question by the young man who expanded my understanding of God with his question and my pursuit of the answer.

“Ask Pastor Erik!” cards are available in the Pinnacle Kids wing and questions can also be sent directly to Pastor Erik.

In the depths of grief, we often find ourselves searching for a deeper connection with God, for a lifeline, for something which will help us make sense of our loss. For me, music, and sacred music in particular, has often been that lifeline, offering a pathway to healing and understanding that transcends words. Among the vast repertoire of emotionally resonant music, Bach's chorale prelude Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland BWV 659 stands as a particularly poignant example of how a perfect marriage of music and meaning can guide through the darkest valleys of mourning.

This Advent chorale prelude is set to hymn Savior of the Nations, Come which can be found in the Glory to God hymnal under No. 102. The second stanza gives some background for the music:

From God’s heart the Savior speeds;
back to God his pathway leads;
out to vanquish death’s command,
back to reign at God’s right hand.

Bach wrote a few compositions based on the melody of this hymn. This one, however, is my favorite. The unbroken slow-paced movement of the bass line, interwoven with intricate counterpoint in the accompaniment, and adorned with a hauntingly gorgeous melody, creates a tapestry of sound that seems to embrace in a cocoon of contemplation. 

The piece begins with a sense of mystery and longing, its undulating lines evoking the ebb and flow of grief itself. As the chorale unfolds, echoes of hope resonate amidst the melancholy. Bach's masterful use of harmonic tension and release mirrors the emotional journey of grappling with loss. There are moments of dissonance that feel almost unbearable, yet they always resolve, reminding that even in the deepest pain, there is the possibility of resolution and peace. 

The slow, measured pace of BWV 659 encourages to sit with all the emotions, to acknowledge the grief rather than push it aside. In doing so, the music creates a safe space for reflection and remembrance. It's as if Bach understood that healing isn't about moving on, but about moving through—allowing ourselves to fully experience our sorrow as a pathway to eventual acceptance.

When navigating the turbulent waters of grief, immersing oneself in music, and especially such profound music as Bach's BWV 659, can be a form of therapy. Its rich textures and emotional depth provide a companion for the journey, a silent understanding presence that acknowledges the pain while gently guiding towards hope. In the end, this centuries-old composition reminds us of God’s promise of triumph of light over darkness and life over death, while the timeless power of music offers solace and the promise of healing, one note at a time.