Pastor Jim

Pastor Jim Rasmussen

James David Rasmussen, child of God, pastor of this church, was born January 6, 1945 in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin. James David Rasmussen, child of God, pastor of this church, was adopted into the love of David and Myrtle within hours of his birth, and baptized into the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ within days of his birth.

Following graduation from Luther College, Jim and Terry were married in the late summer of 1967. After graduation from Wartburg Seminary, Jim was ordained as a Lutheran Pastor. He served congregations in
Kansas, Nebraska, Wisconsin, Littleton, and of course here at Trinity for ten years.

Jim is survived by Terry, his wife of 42 years; by his children Jeremy and Keri Rassmussen, Jennifer and Richard Schmalz, and Jamie and Ben Rudolph. And of course by grandchildren R.J., Ava, Owen, Andie, and Siri. When he spoke of them, a smile seemed always to come over his face.

James David Rasmussen, child of God, pastor of this church, came to the end of his baptismal journey last
Friday, October 16. We were not ready for him to die. Christ has received him into the fullness of mercy, and the promise is fulfilled.

We are here to give thanks for Jim’s life, his witness and ministry, and to celebrate the Resurrection of Jesus Christ into which we too are baptized.

Pastors live and work in close proximity with the reality of death. It is not just that they bear responsibility for presiding at funerals and graveside services. It is not just that they are called into emergency rooms and to sick beds. It is not just that they are in conversation with parishioners about grief and dying.

It is that nearly every Sunday, and at every baptism, and every Eucharist, the preaching and the presiding are set against the backdrop of our mortality. Resurrection is proclaimed in the context of our human birth and death.

How many times did Pastor Jim lead you in these words:

I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.

The liturgy of the church embodies an ongoing practice in dying. And pastors live in the liturgy. Their lives are defined more by the liturgical cycles of the church year than the monthly calendars on our walls.

Pastors have the deep privilege of being invited into the frailty of our lives. Pastors attend us at our most vulnerable and our most joyful. At weddings and funerals, baptisms and crises, they witness firsthand the full spectrum of our humanity.

Pastors witness death in all its forms. In some way, I suppose they become used to it, at home with it. And so they can be our guides through its dark pathways.

But if pastors know death, they also know resurrection. And that too is the profound privilege of ministry. New life, in so many ways, which is poured out by the Holy Spirit.

That is what sustains us. At home with the reality of death, the promise and reality of resurrection bring deep joy in ministry.

For good pastors, like Pastor Jim, these experiences all simmer down to a quiet and deep and faithful understanding that whatever we can or cannot do, the grace of God prevails. Prevails over our fractured lives, our attempts to do it all ourselves, and prevails even over our dying. Good pastors, like Jim, come to an understanding that they will do what they can do, and the Holy Spirit will do the rest.

I remember a classic MASH episode in which B.J., newly arrived in the war zone, is brought in and educated about the chaos of life in the 4077^th. After a few fortifying beverages along the way, BJ and Hawkeye arrive in camp in the midst of a flood of wounded. BJ wants to tend everyone. Hawkeye, grizzled and experienced, teaches him in the midst of the chaos, that he must leave some and tend to the most critical. Triage. Do what is most important now, for the good of the dying. Meanwhile Frank Burns is wandering around looking for his purple heart. It is a good example of pastoral ministry.

When I sat with Jim, in private and group settings, I saw that calm, assured, experienced pastoral wisdom. Knowing what needed to be done, knowing what was within his power to do, and knowing what to leave to the work and wisdom of the Holy Spirit.

Jim was a good pastor, standing with his people against death, and joyfully leading your proclamation of new life in Jesus Christ. He urged you to share your own stories, the stories of your lives. In his life and ministry he shared your stories and brought to them the witness of the Gospel. In his own baptismal life, in living

and now in his dying, he proclaims the promise of resurrection life.

It is all about one thing really. The preaching, the teaching, lifting the cup, and breaking the bread. Pouring baptismal water and anointing in hospital rooms. Showing up in your life, listening to your confessions, speaking absolution. It’s all about one thing. We are here, not because we need another potluck, a better budget, but because we are all dying. Because death has us all in its grip and because Christ comes to us there and brings us Resurrection.

It is all about Easter and the seismic impact of the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Because neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Jim Rasmussen, baptized child of God, pastor of this church, husband, father, grandfather understood that. Understood that and preached that, in his words and in his actions. His story is all about grace.

Thank you, Jim, pastor and friend, teach and preacher, for your witness to our Lord, Jesus Christ.

Thank you, and praise to God for you.

Thank you. We will give thanks and honor your memory by telling our stories, and by living in the grace of God.

Here is a poem by Mary Oliver: So every day I was surrounded by the beautiful crying forth

of the ideas of God. One of which was you.

Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. Bishop Allan Bjornberg

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