One Sunday, a year after Redeemer members were locked out of the Lutheran Church, one of our members commented in frustration during our fellowship after house worship.

“I just don’t understand why they want a church without us in it.”

That comment sparked our Ambassador visits. “Let’s go ask them” was the response.

The commenter was Marilyn. That was three years ago.

Marilyn Popp loved being a Redeemer Ambassador. She truly enjoyed the church visits, especially the history of the congregations and the church architecture.

Marilyn was a retired city school teacher. She had intentionally followed a difficult calling. She wanted to work in the city schools from the moment she entered West Chester State College. She taught in Philadelphia’s roughest neighborhoods during the most turbulent years in urban America. She often talked with affection of the children who had passed through her life and was always delighted when she encountered a former student.

Her experience in the toughest schools gave her a commanding presence. Her voice carried. There was no such thing as a whisper. She had a sense of how things ought to be done and insisted that when we enjoyed fellowship after church in a restaurant that she personally place the tip in the waiter’s hands.

Marilyn was frugal, spending as little as possible on herself. We were all surprised when she returned from a trip recently with a new dress. She justified the extravagance. “It was made in America, it was the only one in the store and it happened to be my size.” It was certainly meant to be!

Marilyn came to Redeemer in 1997. She and her husband attended a concert we hosted at holiday time. Her home church, Jonathan Pritchard, had already closed. Unless something changes in the ELCA that’s what city Lutherans have to look forward to — one church closure after another. It’s sad enough when congregations agree to close. It’s tragic when the decision is forced on them. It causes all city Lutherans to weigh just how much they are willing to put into churches that can be seized at any moment.

She immediately felt at home at Redeemer and joined after her husband’s sudden death shortly thereafter.

She brought with her a passion for Victorian hymns. Most hymns are Victorian hymns. She especially admired Blind Fanny Crosby. Blessed Assurance.

She had her own mission project. 2×2 purchases more daily devotional booklets than we need. Marilyn mailed them out quarterly to friends—always with a note. She also had a group of people, many much older than she, whom she visited, took to events and prayed. She was delighted to learn the Lord’s Prayer in German, so she could recite it with one such friend.

Despite being one of our older members, she embraced the use of Swahili in worship and often climbed the stairs into our sanctuary saying Asante sana Jesu.

Every offering she gave to one of the churches we visited included her handwritten note: From Redeemer. As far as we know, all the churches accepted them. We must exist!

Marilyn was a worrier. She worried about things big and small. One of our friends wrote, “I’ll always remember Marilyn as a worrier with a smile.” She still worried that the SEPA Synod might allow our pipes to freeze or that the lights would be left on. She longed to once again enjoy worship in our church home. She was not one of the members of Redeemer targeted personally in SEPA’s lawsuits but she fearlessly attended all the hearings.

Marilyn has no more worries. The mother of the Redeemer Ambassadors died today.

Funny, the lights in the church were left on.

Redeemer, with no official pastor to call, rushed to her home to comfort her daughter. We are still a church, you see.

It’s at times like this that we, the people of Redeemer, are the most angry and that we feel the hurt of our exclusion from our church the most. It’s at times like this that we are most aware that we live in a church without a conscience and a very selective heart.

Marilyn should not have spent the last four years locked out of her church. Our people should be able to rally in our own neighborhood to comfort her family and celebrate her life.

But we have to make do—alone.

Every minute we are not thinking of Marilyn and her family we will be thinking about all the churches that couldn’t care less about the people they are hurting—all the churches that have spent four years waiting for someone else to do something.

Rest in peace, Marilyn. You were a great ambassador.

Too bad—we still don’t know why other Lutherans want a church without us in it.

Wish we had an answer. Meanwhile, put in a good word for us!