Dear friends in Christ,
As another academic year draws to a close on our campus, I find myself returning again and again to Paul’s simple yet profound words in 1 Corinthians 12:27: “You are the body of Christ and individually members of it.”
This verse served as our theme verse for the 2025–2026 school year and has been echoing across our community in surprising ways all year—through classroom conversations, chapel reflections, service projects, and late‑night talks in residence halls. And it has resonated especially deeply as our students have been exploring its connection to the South African term, UBUNTU, often summarized as: “I am because we are.”
UBUNTU is not merely a cultural proverb. It is a theological truth. It is Paul’s teaching in a different key. It is the gospel expressed through community. It is the reminder that our lives are bound together, that our flourishing is shared, and that our identity is never isolated but always relational.
In a world that often tells young adults to build themselves, brand themselves, and prove themselves, UBUNTU offers a counter‑witness:
You become yourself through others.
You grow because others have invested in you. You thrive because someone prayed for you, taught you, challenged you, or believed in you.
This year, I watched UBUNTU come alive on our campus in countless ways:
- When a first‑year student struggling with homesickness was embraced by a circle of peers who refused to let her feel alone
- When faculty and staff gathered around a grieving student, offering presence more than answers
- When student leaders reminded one another that leadership is not about spotlight but service
- When our faith-infused community practiced being the body of Christ by showing up for one another in joy and in sorrow
Every one of these moments whispered the same truth: “I am because we are.”
And this is where you—our partner congregations, pastors, alumni, and friends—play such a vital role. Your prayers, your encouragement, your financial support, your willingness to send students our way . . . all of it forms the web of belonging that makes UBUNTU possible here at TLU.
Our students are discovering that vocation is not simply an individual calling but a communal one. They are learning that their gifts matter not only for their own future but for the sake of the world. They are learning that to be part of the body of Christ is to be responsible for one another, accountable to one another, and connected to one another.
As we send another class of graduates into the world, we do so with confidence—not because they have all the answers, but because they know they do not walk alone. They carry with them the truth of UBUNTU and the promise of Christ’s presence. They carry the conviction that their lives are intertwined with the lives of others. They carry the hope that community is not a luxury but a calling.
Thank you for being part of this calling with us. Thank you for helping us form students who understand that “I am because we are” is not just a proverb—it is a way of life rooted in the gospel, it is what it means to be part of the body of Christ.
May God continue to knit us together as one body, one community, one people in Christ.
With gratitude for our shared ministry,
~Pastor Wes
Grace and peace to you, in the name of our Risen Savior, Jesus Christ!
And: HAPPY EASTER! As we’ve journeyed through the resurrection texts over the past couple of weeks, I have found myself more and more drawn to John’s resurrection encounters, especially the one involving the disciples in the upper room.
On the evening of Easter Day, Jesus’s disciples are locked behind closed doors—afraid, uncertain, unsure what comes next. Into that tense space, the risen Christ appears and speaks a simple word: “Peace be with you.” Not once, but twice. And when Thomas later voices his doubt, Jesus responds not with rebuke, but with presence, invitation, and grace (John 20:19–31).
This passage feels especially at home on a university campus.
Our campus is full of bright minds and searching hearts. Students, faculty, and staff carry hopes for the future alongside real anxiety about the world as it is. Questions about vocation, justice, belonging, faith, and meaning are not abstract here—they are personal and pressing. Like the disciples, we often find ourselves behind locked doors, whether those doors are fear of failure, exhaustion, grief, or the quiet uncertainty of “What comes next?”
Jesus does not wait for the disciples to have everything figured out before showing up. He comes into their fear-filled room and meets them exactly as they are. He shows them his wounds—the marks of suffering that are not erased by resurrection but transformed by it. This matters deeply in a community like ours, where students and colleagues bring their whole selves, including their pain and questions. The Christian story we share is not one that denies brokenness, but one that insists God meets us there.
Thomas, so often remembered only as “the doubter,” gives voice to something many on campus feel but may hesitate to say aloud: “Unless I see . . . I will not believe.” In response, Jesus does not shame him. Instead, he invites Thomas into deeper encounter: “Put your finger here . . . Do not doubt but believe.” This is a portrait of faith that resonates with our Lutheran theological foundation—faith not as intellectual certainty or forced assent, but as trust formed in relationship and sustained by grace.
At TLU, we cherish this spacious understanding of faith. We believe that questions are not a threat to belief but often the pathway into deeper trust. Academic inquiry, theological reflection, and honest doubt can belong together. God is not afraid of our questions. In Christ, God comes close enough for us to touch.
When Jesus says, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you,” he shifts the story outward. Resurrection is not meant to be contained. Peace becomes purpose. Here, that sending happens in countless ways—through teaching and learning, service and research, advocacy and care for one another. Students are formed not only for careers, but for lives of meaning and service in a world that deeply needs hope grounded in love.
The passage ends with a blessing: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” This is not a dismissal of doubt, but a promise that faith is possible even amid uncertainty. It is a word for our time and our place.
As TLU’s campus pastor, I am especially grateful for you, our church partners who walk with us in this ministry. Your prayers, encouragement, and support help make space on this campus for honest questions, courageous faith, and the enduring promise of Christ’s peace.
May that same risen Christ continue to meet us—behind whatever doors we may find ourselves—and speak again the word we most need to hear: Peace be with you.
It’s that time of year again, friends!
We have made it through Lent and find ourselves steeped in Holy Week, that hard and holy time that begins with shouts of “Hosanna!” and ends with the silence of the tomb. We journey with Jesus through the streets of Jerusalem, as he rides on the back of a donkey while others lay their garments and palm branches before him. We stare in shock at a cursed fig tree and overturned market tables. We sit in pained silence as the Savior cries for another way, for God to take the cup of suffering from him. We run with the disciples as soldiers arrive, deny knowing Christ alongside Peter, and hide amongst the crowds as Jesus is tried, beaten, and mocked. We travel, step after painful step, to the hill called The Skull, where Jesus will hang. We hear his cries, we see the soldiers jeering…
and we weep, as Jesus Christ, the Son of God, dies.
This week we call “Holy” holds so much, doesn’t it?
Meanwhile, we are also in the midst of a different kind of cycle on campus. Our students here at TLU are working hard to wrap up sports seasons, get in one more performance, and finish that final paper before the push toward finals. Tension and anxiety is high, and everyone—students, faculty, staff, and administrators—are zealously pushing to make it to the end of the year, to celebrate the accomplishments of another completed semester, and to shift to the next chapter, whether it is graduation, summer internships and classes, landing that perfect summer job, or taking a well-deserved time just to breathe. Many look at the present and wonder how they will ever overcome the mountain of obstacles that stands between them and the finish line. Others are looking toward the not-so-distant-enough future, fearful of what tomorrow holds and the unknowns hiding within it.
Life, whether we call it holy or not, holds so much, too, doesn’t it?
One of the things I love most about my job is finding the connecting points between the cycles of the church calendar and the seasons of our students’ lives. I’ve treasured the conversations I’ve been able to have with students this semester—especially during this Lenten season!—about calling, vocation, and the adventure that is life. It feels that, even more so than in years past, the recurring theme of these conversations has held the same emotional turmoil, the same highs and lows, and the same liminal holiness as the stories that cap off Lent, and I consider it a gift and joy to be able to share these moments with our students.
Grace and Peace to you from Jesus Christ, our Lord!
As we move fully into the Lenten season this month, I’ve found myself thinking often about one of Jesus’s more . . . frustrating . . . parables: the Parable of the Vineyard Workers from Matthew 20.
As I’m sure you know, this parable sees the owner of the vineyard hiring day workers throughout the day—and almost into the evening—to work his property, promising to pay them what is right. Then, when it is time for them to receive their wages, he calls to them in backwards order, starting distribution with those who had worked the least amount of time. Then, to the astonishment of the workers who had worked all day, he gives them a full day’s worth of pay! They look ravenously upon the exchange, certain that this will mean they receive even more, but when their turn arrives, the owner pays them the same amount.
As they fume over this perceived slight, he admonishes them, reminding them that “it’s my money, and I can do with it what I please.”
It is so easy for us to default into competition, rank, and entitlement. We look upon others and judge them, determining our place among them in the pecking order of life. This happens on college campuses, in offices, and even in grocery stores, doesn’t it?
And sometimes, this is appropriate. We are called to be a people of justice, are we not?
But when it comes to grace—especially the grace of God—may we always be a people who celebrate every instance of it in our world and in the lives of others. May we remember that there is no pecking order in the Kingdom of God, and that no one deserves or has earned more salvation than anyone else.
This is my prayer for our students this Lenten season, and it is my prayer for you as well. May God bless you mightily as you prepare your hearts and your world to walk along the road that leads to Calvary and the empty tomb.
What is your calling in life? How is God urging you to engage the world around you? This is one of the most important questions an individual will wrestle with throughout their life, and here at TLU, we put high priority and importance on walking alongside our students as they engage in this work.
Vocational discernment has always been embedded in the DNA of Texas Lutheran as we prepare and equip students to live into more than a career but a calling. Right now, we are in the process of evaluating our effectiveness at it and exploring innovative ways to engage students around this subject. Thanks to a generous grant from NetVUE, the Network of Vocation in Undergraduate Education, we are spending the 2025–2026 school year listening to students, faculty, staff, and alumni as they share their experience and understanding of vocational discernment in education at TLU. We want to know what we have done right, where we have missed the mark, and how we can enhance this work both on and off campus.
This grant, funded by the Lily Foundation, has two parts: The first is what we are doing right now as we research, evaluate, and plan. Following this work, we will have the opportunity to apply for the second phase, which is all about implementation. It is here that we will put our theories and ideas to the test as we seek to engage in creative and non-traditional ways to foster vocational discernment amongst the members of our community.
For me, this is the fun part: We don’t yet know what those innovative ways will be! We are still working through our survey and focus group data, speaking to students, faculty, staff, and alumni, and compiling all of the historical work that will show us where we are and where we’ve been. Then we get to brainstorm, pitch, and innovate. This campus-wide work is sure to make an impact on the lives of our students, and I cannot wait to see what happens next!
What about you? How have you understood and articulated your calling? How did TLU help you engage well in vocational discernment?
To share your thoughts with Pastor Wes, email him here: kwcain@tlu.edu.
