Good morning everybody.

Due to the deadline for making the Midweek Blast possible, I completed this message before the results of yesterday's election were known. Many people are very happy this morning. Many others are not. What does one say on the morning after an event with such high stakes and accompanying polarization?

There will be plenty said today about the necessity for the country to come together, to rise above the partisan politics that has divided this country, and to support our president, whether we voted for him or not. Of course, we must. Our president has a very tough job leading a divided country stuck in economic stagnation, digging itself out of the ravages of Sandy, and yet called to be a bulwark for freedom in a perilous world.

We have all experienced "days after" - perhaps the day after being told, "You got the job," or the day after being told, "We decided to go with someone else." The day after a loved one is dismissed from the hospital following a near fatal accident or the day after the funeral of a loved one who didn't make it. Or the day after being told that the cancer is gone or the day after being told, "There is nothing more that we can do."

I am experiencing a day after. On Monday my good friend, Pastor Dave, was told by his medical team that there was nothing more they could do. The leukemia he has been fighting has reached a critical mass where it is clear it will win. You may have noted that we have been praying for Pastor Dave every week in worship. He has fought the good fight. He submitted himself to a bone marrow transplant and to every other option that was given to him in an effort to create "one more run" in his life, one more chance to spend more time with friends and his spouse and his sons and grandchildren. Harriet and I spoke with him and his wife, Jean, on Monday as he is now at home under hospice care. I sent him a long letter by email. If circumstances are such and I won't be interfering with what little precious time he has left with Jean, the boys, and grandchildren, I hope to fly to Ohio if just to see him and say, "Thank you," one last time.

Dave was the pastor who put me under his wing when I was a first-year seminarian. How ironic it is that I was assigned to Epiphany Lutheran Church in Pickerington, Ohio, back in 1985. I worked for Pastor Dave for three years, and he and his wife Jean have remained good friends. Few people in this "business" have been more important to Harriet and me than Pastor Dave. He remained a confidant, mentor, and cheerleader, and he would visit us when we were in Florida and mostly in Colorado. When my father tragically died in 1991, Pastor Dave was among the first to call. When Harriet's mother was battling cancer and succumbed to it and when my mother suffered a stroke and finally succumbed to it, Pastor Dave called often. When the Columbine High School shootings happened, Pastor Dave was among the first to call. Whenever I had some ministry issue to discuss with another pastor, Pastor Dave would always be the first I would call. And whenever the Wolfpack of NC State would lose an important game, Pastor Dave would be the first to pile on to my misery. His biggest vice is that he is an avid Ohio State Buckeye fan.

I will miss him deeply. If I work too hard, care too much, love too much what I do as a pastor, and love you too much as my congregation, it is all Pastor Dave's fault. I ended my letter to him yesterday with the presumption that he will beat me to the promised banquet; so, I asked him to save me a seat.

This day after in my life is a great reminder that the promises of God transcend all human projects and precepts, even an election among mortals for the highest office in the land of the world's most blessed country and a country called into high stakes global responsibility. As the scriptures and empty tomb keep telling us, God wins. Love wins. Life wins. We win.

I'll see you Sunday!