Today I'm getting married.
It will be a straight-up, traditional Lutheran wedding service, in a big ELCA church with 300 guests and three ministers. We'll sing, we'll say vows, we'll exchange rings, we'll pray, we'll thank and praise God for all our blessings.
On the advice of a friend, my fiancé and I will walk very slowly, just inching down the aisle to absorb all the love and blessings and smiles and warmth of the people gathered. (I'm pretty sure I'll cry, though I'm going to try not to.)
It's the wedding I always thought I'd have as a kid growing up in small-town North Dakota and later as a student at Concordia in Moorhead, Minn. A very Lutheran wedding.
My college roommate will play the piano; my childhood minister will say the prayers; the wedding quilt my mom has been sewing all summer will be there on display; my friends from camp will sing "Ode to Joy" in German from the balcony.
And our Lutheran pastor will preside. Gerry and I will be joined in marriage with the same vows as joined my parents, and my grandparents, and my great grandparents.
Our pastor will declare: "Kevin and Gerry, by their promises before God and in the presence of this assembly, have joined themselves to one another in marriage. Those whom God has joined together let no one separate." And we will all say "amen."
This is our religion. Today, Gerry and I and our pastor, our family ministers and all those gathered are practicing our religion. We are expressing our religious freedom. Exercising our liberty.