photo of Intern Dan Kuckuck

          As I drove up from the lower 48 a few weeks ago, I couldn’t help but notice how much is in the world. As the suburbs of Chicago gave way to farmland and fields, which gave way to rocks, mountains, forests, and lakes, the expansiveness of the world that surrounds us made itself known.

          As I woke up each day for the 10 or so hours in the car, I started getting a radical sense of being present. I was where I was. I wasn’t tied to a place yet; I had moved out of my apartment in Chicago and had not yet moved into the one in Alaska. My home in Virginia is a place of memory and family, but no longer a place of everyday grounding. My world wasn’t limited, but rather expanded to each place that I came to in a given moment. I was in the car, with my cat and my friend, wandering through the wilderness to find my new home.

          This traveling in the wilderness, as well as the expansiveness of the world, is a theme that touches us all in times of change, whether in terms of our relationships, our location, even our way of being (all of these!). But though there is this sense temporary ungroundedness, there is also the opportunity to consider what being grounded is. As I drove one day in particular, I was struck by how many trees occupied the space around me. Each of these trees is different, I thought. And as each is different, each has its place—its world—in which it finds itself grounded. The billions of trees and their billions of homes is something I would not have realized if I weren’t moving toward my own new ground.

          When wandering, we find new places, new times, and new blessings. (Thanks for all the provisions and the wonderful welcome!) As we wander and plant ourselves we open our own worlds to the experience of other people’s world, and in so doing learn more about the space we occupy. I am truly blessed to find this opportunity here at Christ Lutheran and look forward to all the wanderings we’ll be treated to in the next months.

Many blessings, 

                   Intern Dan

trees!

This page updated 8/30/10

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Christ Lutheran Church...God's work. Our hands. click for Alaska Synod website click for ELCA website

Christ Lutheran Church 1798 Iniakuk Ave. Fairbanks, Alaska 99709       (907)479-4947           clc@mosquitonet.com

©2010 Christ Lutheran Church of Fairbanks Alaska; backgrounds from Backgrounds Archive

photo of Intern Kim Dan Kuckuck

Dear friends,

When I found out that I would be spending my next year with you in Fairbanks I was thrilled. In addition to my excitement for coming to a new place, the chance to be near wilderness has been especially exciting. Chicago is nothing like my hilly home in Virginia, and so the nearby mountains in Alaska will be a great welcome. Hiking and riding my bike will be a challenge again! I have (naively) already decided to scale Mt. McKinley with no mountaineering experience, so with that goal and meeting you all, this next year is sure to be an exciting one. Kidding aside, though, I am especially looking forward to getting to know your congregation and discovering the ways my story and yours are both fairly similar and very different.

I was born and raised in Virginia (with a few brief years in upstate New York) and have only just adjusted to life outside of “home” with my past few years in Chicago at the University of Chicago Divinity School. I had not always pointed my path at ordained ministry, though others had rightly seen it moving in that direction. The church has always been a strong part of my life and the place in which I’ve always felt the most myself; yet when I started at the University of Virginia as an undergraduate, I wanted to be an Econ major. After some Cs and Ds, I decided that Pre-Med would be my path. After breaking something or burning myself each week in the lab, I finally admitted to myself that I did, in fact, love learning more and more about religion and faith. It was the perfect fit. My teachers in undergrad were the ones that pushed me to explore ordained ministry. One class in particular looked closely at the Jewish Morning Prayer service. The exciting depths of those conversations about faith and life pushed me to ultimately explore those same questions for my own tradition. I soon found myself at The Divinity School and at LSTC as an affiliate and could not have chosen a better place to explore how we talk about God in our world. That love informs the way I think about ministry.

I’ve included the following paragraph in the past few autobiographical statements I’ve written about myself. I think it’s the best quick introduction that I can offer. (It is always in the draft phase.):

I was created by a creator. I was born on an evening in January 26 years ago. I was given the name Daniel. I am the son of Terri and Bob, and the brother of Elena and David. I am the grandson of Mildred and Fritz, of Don and Shirle; the great-grandson of Frank and Pauline, Bill and Bertha, Lizzie and Elmer, Gertrude and Howard. I have lived in New York, Virginia, and Chicago, and am a Virginian. I am an astronomer, an architect, a pianist, an artist, a swimmer, a runner, a biker, a traveler, a singer, a lover, a coach, a teacher, a mentor, a student: a pastor. I love a good plane ride. I drink too much espresso and I love cake. I like a glass of wine, a bottle of beer, a good movie (and an awful one), a challenging book, a hard question, and a difficult answer. I have both believed and not believed in every idea I've encountered. I love food and rest after a long day. Sometimes I stand up for myself and sometimes I get walked on; sometimes I talk very loud and sometimes I listen. I fight the impulse to judge quickly. Sometimes I am very happy, and other times I am very sad. I live in faith and doubt. Someday I will die, but I haven't yet. I am that I am, much like you are that you are. And I have met God, if only for an instant, at the top of a mountain, at the mouth of the sea, in the wilderness, and at every point between, above, and beneath. God’s was my infant cry; God’s is the voice that calls out my name. God's are the faces that call me their own, God's are the faces that reject me. God is my home. God is in the things I like, the things that I don't. God is my judge. God is believing and not-believing, is faith and doubt, is in courage and in cowardice, in cacophony and quiet. God is within. And without. And throughout. What is "me" and "mine" isn't really either of those things: they are God's. I am called "Daniel"; God's is the activity of my life.

I have been reminding myself in the past weeks that I still have papers to write and that graduation hasn’t happened yet. (June 12!) But, in the meantime, I’ve bought maps of Alaska and am stocking up on warm clothing. I look forward to the many conversations we’re sure to have and am thankful to God—and to you through him—that we will share the next chapter of our ministries together.

                        Many blessings,   Dan Kuckuck

 

 

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