The Psalms are dangerous. These ancient songs inspire us and bring us a sense of joy, but they also scare us. They might even transform our faith.

The Psalms of the Hebrew Bible testify to a rich, complicated life–150 stories from a people passionate and honest about the complexities of human experience. The psalmists were creative, openhearted musicians who composed and sang with their community. Their lyrics reveal that they clearly struggled with God and wrestled with their place in the world. Over time, Christians have eschewed this complexity in favor of an unhelpful model of relating to God, one that prioritizes happiness, purity, and prosperity. This model depicts a fragile God who demands praise and is disappointed in brokenness. It lessens God in our eyes and erects barriers between us. Fortunately, to counter this model, we need only reengage with the Psalms on their own terms.

Taking us on a tour through the Psalms, Dangerous Songs explores three grand dimensions of human life–thriving, desolation and uncertainty. With an eye toward trauma theory, the psychology of recovery, practices of cultivating delight, and the inherent musicality of the Psalms, longtime Psalms teacher Richard Bruxvoort Colligan offers an integrative approach to the complexity of life and lifelong spiritual formation. People have long turned to the Psalms for comfort and consolation. Now Dangerous Songs also reveals how, if we read them with fresh eyes and a willing heart, these ancient texts will wreck our perfectly okay faith–and transform it into something deeper.

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In this year’s Easter message from Lutheran World Federation, Nepalese pastor Rev. Rinki Rachel Soren reflects on the transformation made possible through Christ’s resurrection, freeing believers from sin and redefining their identity in him. Rather than observing this season only as an event, Easter is an invitation to leave behind the old self, choose justice over injustice, and love over division, in a world marked by violence, inequality, and broken relationships.

“So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; look, new things have come into being!”

— 2 Corinthians 5:17

Dear friends in Christ,

Grace and peace to you in the name of the risen Jesus.

We come to Easter this year in a world that feels, in many ways, unsettled—marked by uncertainty, division, and deep longing. And yet, this is not new territory for God’s people. Jesus lived, spoke, and moved among communities facing turmoil, oppression, and fear. Into that very reality, he proclaimed good news. Into that very reality, he brought healing, hope, and ultimately resurrection.

This year, as a synod, we have been reflecting on what it means to be Rooted in God’s Story. At Easter, we are reminded that this story is not abstract or distant—it is alive, unfolding, and grounded in the promise that death does not have the final word. We are, as the Church has long proclaimed, resurrection people. Our identity is rooted not in fear or scarcity, but in the living Christ who continues to make all things new.

Over the past weeks, I have been deeply heartened by our Spring Gatherings across the synod. In each place, we have centered ourselves in the Lord’s Prayer, reflecting on its meaning through Luther’s Small Catechism—words that have shaped generations of faithful disciples. Together, we have prayed, listened, and remembered who we are.

And at the close of each gathering, we have invited one another to share good news.

Again and again, congregation after congregation, person after person, stories have poured forth—of ministry, of connection, of resilience, of generosity, of quiet faithfulness and bold new steps. Not once have we found ourselves without good news to share. This, too, is a sign of resurrection life among us.

So this Easter, we celebrate the good news of Jesus Christ—crucified and risen—and we recommit ourselves to telling that story. We share it in our worship, in our service, in our communities, and in our daily lives. We share it because the world needs it. We share it because it is already alive among us.

Christ is risen. Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia.

With you in Christ,

In his Easter message, Presiding Bishop Curry says that even though we consider ourselves to be an Easter church, we must remember that we are also a Lenten church, a time when we live in uncertainty, waiting and hoping for renewal. Curry reminds us that in the midst of that uncertainty, comes God’s promise of reassurance and hope. Death does not have the final word. “Yes, we are Easter people. Even when the ground below us is shaking, we will not grow weary. We know that Jesus is our foundation. Christ is risen, and that truth strengthens us. It gives us courage to live, to hope, and to proclaim joy. Christ is risen. Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia!” Text: Matthew 28:5; Taizé Community Music: Jacques Berthier, 1923-1994 Text and Music © 1998 Les Presses de Taizé, admin. GIA Publications, Inc.

Watch Bishop’s Curry’s Easter Message Herehttps://www.youtube.com/watch?si=HzsmWuQH6JJR2VD1&v=Cpw7B04qrgY&feature=youtu.be

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We remember the whispers of Advent as we anticipated the birth of Jesus. Now, as we journey through Holy Week, we anticipate the joyful noise of alleluias on Easter Sunday. But before we reach the Easter celebration, we make our way through Lent, through an in-between time where we don’t know what tomorrow will bring. We often describe ourselves as an Easter church, but in this holy, solemn time that begins with Ash Wednesday and moves on to Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday, we are also a Lenten church. Living in uncertainty, waiting and hoping for renewal. Longing for the moments when God’s presence feels closer and more sure. During Lent, we learn what it means to live on unsettled ground. In Matthew’s retelling of the resurrection, he describes a “violent earthquake” as the angel came down from heaven and rolled the stone away from the entrance to the tomb where Jesus lay.  I imagine the earthquake, the rumble deep below the earth, as the ground shifted far under the surface. Perhaps those who were nearby felt the tremble. Maybe the women who were on their way to the tomb with prepared spices felt the earth shift. They were unsettled, but they knew something powerful was happening. We can understand that human experience of feeling out of control, of not being able to make sense of what’s happening around us. Many of us can relate to this as we witness the current unrest in our world and in our communities. Like the women at the tomb, we feel isolated, disconnected. We’re unsettled, unsure, living the Lenten reality of waiting and hoping.  And then, in the midst of that shaking, comes the promise. The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen.” God’s promise offers reassurance and hope. The resurrection does not deny disruption — it meets us within disorder and disturbance. The stone is rolled away. Death does not have the final word.  Yes, we are Easter people. Even when the ground below us is shaking, we will not grow weary. We know that Jesus is our foundation. Christ is risen, and that truth strengthens us. It gives us courage to live, to hope and to proclaim joy. Christ is risen. Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia!

During this holiest of weeks, we pray for our siblings across the world who are living out the work of Christ. We remember Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem, and the love he continued to show, even when those closest to him fell short.

In this sacred time, we lift up all who carry that same love into the world today, especially those serving and walking alongside our most vulnerable neighbors. May they be strengthened, sustained, and reminded that they do not labor alone.

Amen.