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Roxana Boroujerdi had spent decades as a social worker serving youth in Everett, Wash., when she opted for a change of pace in her career: She opened an ice cream business. That might seem like a major shift but, at its heart, Boroujerdi said, the work was similar. “There’s nothing that brings me more joy than seeing a happy kid,” she said.

With that, her transition to being the “Fun Times Ice Cream Lady” was complete.

Mary J. Streufert wrote her new book Language for God: A Lutheran Perspective (Fortress Press, 2022) for those people and other readers who need assurance that language and images for God include all genders and ethnicities, who are unsure why language and images for God matter, and who want language for God to be faithful to the Scriptures and to the witness of Christian theological tradition.

Bounce around the internet for a while and you’ll catch wind of how virtual reality experiences, such as those sought in the metaverse, are supposed to change the world—and soon.

Pre-COVID-19, these conversations might not have meant much to congregations. But since the outbreak of the pandemic, which forced nearly all congregations to close their doors at some point and made “going digital” one of the only ways to connect with congregants, conversations about the digital future have taken on new meaning for the church.

In the predawn hours of May 30, 2022, in Valley Springs, S.D., tornado sirens pierced the air, rain poured and windows clattered as they blew off hinges.

Beaver Valley Lutheran, a steadily growing congregation of around 420 active members, was directly in the path of the tornado. The church, more than a century old, suffered significant damage. Its offices, kitchen, fellowship hall and education wing were mangled into unrecognizable piles of debris, said Greg Johnson, pastor of Beaver Valley.