Rev. Dr. Steven Koski

Lead Pastor

Contact Info

Phone: 541-382-4401
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/steven.koski
Instagram: @stevenkoski
Twitter: https://twitter.com/skoski

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All Profiles > Rev. Dr. Steven Koski

About Rev. Dr. Steven Koski

I am at First Presbyterian because I am crazy blessed to get to serve an extraordinary, loving, compassionate, brave, creative, mission-hearted, curious, and fun community of faith. And for some reason they put up with me.

Before serving here, I was cheering loudly for the Chicago Blackhawks as Senior Pastor at First Presbyterian Church of LaGrange, IL, a western suburb of Chicago.

I love being constantly reminded that I am one lucky guy to have married “up” to Laurie and to be blessed to be dad to two amazing young men, Jacob and Jonah. I love yoga. Although, the people next to me in yoga class look like pretzels while I look and move like a block of cement. I love walking the many beautiful trails of Bend. I love, love, love, love sports. My dream job would be a sports talk show host sharing my limitless sports wisdom with the rest of the world. I love Scrabble, a good book, U2, single malt scotch, theater, and ballet (not necessarily in that order).

You can reach Steven at [email protected], and follow him on Instagram: @stevenkoski.

The porch is my office in the summer and this is my office mate.( who feels the need to say hello to every person, dog, bird, squirrel or car that goes by).
The porch is my office in the summer and this is my office mate.( who feels the need to say hello to every person, dog, bird, squirrel or car that goes by).
Today I won’t assume the arrogance of speaking. Speaking is often a convenient way for me to avoid my own need to confess. Today I will listen, lament, lean into hard conversations, face hard truths and learn. Howard Thurman said, “You can’t stand in the midst of the world and struggle for fundamental change unless you are standing in your own space and looking for change within.” Today I am going to continue the hard but necessary journey of stepping into my own space confronting and confessing my own sins of racism. I invite those who benefit from white privilege, knowingly and unknowingly, to join me. If we are step step more courageously and constructively into the spaces we all share, it is not enough to be “not racist.” We who benefit from whites privilege must take the responsibility to learn how to be “anti-racist.” Precious lives that bear the image of God depend on us doing that work.
Today I won’t assume the arrogance of speaking. Speaking is often a convenient way for me to avoid my own need to confess. Today I will listen, lament, lean into hard conversations, face hard truths and learn. Howard Thurman said, “You can’t stand in the midst of the world and struggle for fundamental change unless you are standing in your own space and looking for change within.” Today I am going to continue the hard but necessary journey of stepping into my own space confronting and confessing my own sins of racism. I invite those who benefit from white privilege, knowingly and unknowingly, to join me. If we are step step more courageously and constructively into the spaces we all share, it is not enough to be “not racist.” We who benefit from whites privilege must take the responsibility to learn how to be “anti-racist.” Precious lives that bear the image of God depend on us doing that work.
If life feels hard and you are struggling today it doesn’t mean you are doing something wrong. It just means life is just damn hard sometimes. Our culture rewards success, achievement, strength and overcoming obstacles. Parents say they just want their children to be happy. I wonder if a better goal is to teach our children how to be unhappy with resiliency and grace because sometimes life is just damn hard. We don’t give ourselves room to struggle. We are quick to judge our day and ourselves as good or bad. If we are struggling it means we are failing life. A friend slogging through the thick and sticky mud of grief said, “I’m failing at grief. I can’t stop crying. One minute I’m fine and ‘wham!’, I fall into a heap and I’m a blubbering mess.” How can you fail at grief for God’s sake? It is not a test or a race with winners and losers. Grief is the sacred human experience of having had the courage to risk your heart loving. Another friend shared over coffee, “I am so sorry. I’m not myself today. Life is just so damn hard right now.” What kind of culture are we living in where we have to apologize for being human? Life is just damn hard sometimes. It just is. Struggling doesn’t require an apology. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross said many misinterpreted her stages of grief - shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Many treated these stages as linear where you have to “succeed” at one stage to move to the next. If you don’t succeed it must mean you are failing grief. No. Kubler-Ross said she was naming common experiences of grief. They don’t necessarily happen in a linear fashion. Not everyone’s experience is the same. You can experience all the stages of grief in the same hour. One of the greatest sources of stress is the picture we have in our heads of the way we think life is supposed to be and the expectation we hold of how we are supposed to be. If you are struggling and life feels hard today it doesn’t mean you are doing something wrong. It may just mean life is just hard. Try not to judge the day or yourself as good or bad. What is, is. Breathe. Be tender and kind to yourself. Be kind to others because chances are life is damn hard for them too.
If life feels hard and you are struggling today it doesn’t mean you are doing something wrong. It just means life is just damn hard sometimes. Our culture rewards success, achievement, strength and overcoming obstacles. Parents say they just want their children to be happy. I wonder if a better goal is to teach our children how to be unhappy with resiliency and grace because sometimes life is just damn hard. We don’t give ourselves room to struggle. We are quick to judge our day and ourselves as good or bad. If we are struggling it means we are failing life. A friend slogging through the thick and sticky mud of grief said, “I’m failing at grief. I can’t stop crying. One minute I’m fine and ‘wham!’, I fall into a heap and I’m a blubbering mess.” How can you fail at grief for God’s sake? It is not a test or a race with winners and losers. Grief is the sacred human experience of having had the courage to risk your heart loving. Another friend shared over coffee, “I am so sorry. I’m not myself today. Life is just so damn hard right now.” What kind of culture are we living in where we have to apologize for being human? Life is just damn hard sometimes. It just is. Struggling doesn’t require an apology. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross said many misinterpreted her stages of grief - shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Many treated these stages as linear where you have to “succeed” at one stage to move to the next. If you don’t succeed it must mean you are failing grief. No. Kubler-Ross said she was naming common experiences of grief. They don’t necessarily happen in a linear fashion. Not everyone’s experience is the same. You can experience all the stages of grief in the same hour. One of the greatest sources of stress is the picture we have in our heads of the way we think life is supposed to be and the expectation we hold of how we are supposed to be. If you are struggling and life feels hard today it doesn’t mean you are doing something wrong. It may just mean life is just hard. Try not to judge the day or yourself as good or bad. What is, is. Breathe. Be tender and kind to yourself. Be kind to others because chances are life is damn hard for them too.
This goofy dog sits on the couch like a human. He loves Jeopardy.
This goofy dog sits on the couch like a human. He loves Jeopardy.
How did Chance know there is a place deep in me today needing someone to hold my hand?
How did Chance know there is a place deep in me today needing someone to hold my hand?
My heart is bursting with pride as Jonah just added the prefix Dr. to his name and begins an exciting new professional journey. His focus, drive, determination and desire to serve and care for others inspires me! If you are in Bend and in need of a Physical Therapist, I can recommend an outstanding one!
My heart is bursting with pride as Jonah just added the prefix Dr. to his name and begins an exciting new professional journey. His focus, drive, determination and desire to serve and care for others inspires me! If you are in Bend and in need of a Physical Therapist, I can recommend an outstanding one!
On this last day of #nationalpoetrymonth, I offer Pablo Neruda. One of my favorite quotes is from the book Plainsong by Kent Haruf. Two elderly bachelor brothers who have lived and farmed together their whole lives are asked to take in and care for a pregnant teenage girl with nowhere else to go. One brother sighs and says it’s going to be a lot of trouble. The other brother says, “Yes but the right kind of trouble. You don’t ever want to die some day without ever having enough trouble in your life.” Do you have enough trouble in your life...the right kind of trouble? No one has ever died saying, “I am so glad for the self-serving, self-centered, self-protected safe and sensible life I’ve lived.” May this blessing by John O’Donohue send our souls running away from sensible advice searching for the right kind of trouble: May my mind come alive today to the invisible geography that invites me to new frontiers, to break the dead shell of yesterdays, to risk being disturbed and changed. May I have the courage today to live the life that I would love, to postpone my dream no longer but do at last what I came here for and waste my heart on fear no more.
On this last day of #nationalpoetrymonth, I offer Pablo Neruda. One of my favorite quotes is from the book Plainsong by Kent Haruf. Two elderly bachelor brothers who have lived and farmed together their whole lives are asked to take in and care for a pregnant teenage girl with nowhere else to go. One brother sighs and says it’s going to be a lot of trouble. The other brother says, “Yes but the right kind of trouble. You don’t ever want to die some day without ever having enough trouble in your life.” Do you have enough trouble in your life...the right kind of trouble? No one has ever died saying, “I am so glad for the self-serving, self-centered, self-protected safe and sensible life I’ve lived.” May this blessing by John O’Donohue send our souls running away from sensible advice searching for the right kind of trouble: May my mind come alive today to the invisible geography that invites me to new frontiers, to break the dead shell of yesterdays, to risk being disturbed and changed. May I have the courage today to live the life that I would love, to postpone my dream no longer but do at last what I came here for and waste my heart on fear no more.
“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a quiet voice whispering behind you saying, ‘This is the path. Walk in it.’” ~ Isaiah 30.21 Lao Tzu said the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. That first step is often the hardest. The best way to combat fear and the anxiety of uncertainty is with a single step toward the fear. It is being willing to do the next, right hard thing. Jesus said, “Follow me.” He didn’t say where they were going. He didn’t give them a map. He didn’t administer a test to see if they were qualified or worthy to follow. He didn’t tell them where they would be staying or stopping to eat. He didn’t let them know how difficult or how long the journey would be. He said, “Follow me. Take that first difficult step, the step you don’t want to take. The step you know deep down you must take.” Trying to sneak a poem or two in for #nationalpoetrymonth before April slips away. Here’s David Whyte’s Start Close In: “Start close in, don’t take the second step or the third, start with the first thing, close in, the step you don’t want to take. Start with the ground you know, the pale ground beneath your feet, your own way of starting the conversation. Start with your own question, give up on other people’s questions, don’t let them smother something simple. To find another’s voice, follow your own voice, wait until that voice becomes a private ear listening to another. Start right now take a small step you can call your own don’t follow someone else’s heroics, be humble and focused, start close in, don’t mistake that other for your own. Start close in, don’t take the second step or the third, start with the first thing close in, the step you don’t want to take.” Listen for that voice today whispering behind your ear saying, “This is the path. Walk in it.” Go ahead. Take that first step. The step you don’t want to take. Your heart and soul just might follow.
“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a quiet voice whispering behind you saying, ‘This is the path. Walk in it.’” ~ Isaiah 30.21 Lao Tzu said the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. That first step is often the hardest. The best way to combat fear and the anxiety of uncertainty is with a single step toward the fear. It is being willing to do the next, right hard thing. Jesus said, “Follow me.” He didn’t say where they were going. He didn’t give them a map. He didn’t administer a test to see if they were qualified or worthy to follow. He didn’t tell them where they would be staying or stopping to eat. He didn’t let them know how difficult or how long the journey would be. He said, “Follow me. Take that first difficult step, the step you don’t want to take. The step you know deep down you must take.” Trying to sneak a poem or two in for #nationalpoetrymonth before April slips away. Here’s David Whyte’s Start Close In: “Start close in, don’t take the second step or the third, start with the first thing, close in, the step you don’t want to take. Start with the ground you know, the pale ground beneath your feet, your own way of starting the conversation. Start with your own question, give up on other people’s questions, don’t let them smother something simple. To find another’s voice, follow your own voice, wait until that voice becomes a private ear listening to another. Start right now take a small step you can call your own don’t follow someone else’s heroics, be humble and focused, start close in, don’t mistake that other for your own. Start close in, don’t take the second step or the third, start with the first thing close in, the step you don’t want to take.” Listen for that voice today whispering behind your ear saying, “This is the path. Walk in it.” Go ahead. Take that first step. The step you don’t want to take. Your heart and soul just might follow.
April is#nationalpoetrymonth and April has almost slipped away so I’m offering two of my favorites that are resonating deeply with me today. Mary Oliver invites me to stop worrying and drag my tired, achy body into the sunlight today and “sing” or at least find a trail with dirt and pay attention to the way the trees and the river sing. I use a beautiful poem by Jane Kenyon called “Otherwise” as a spiritual practice to interrupt anxiety with gratitude. Reminding myself daily that “it might have been otherwise” leads me to gratitude for the ordinary, often overlooked, simple gifts present in every day. Jane Kenyon died of Leukemia at age 47. She wrote this poem shortly before her death with a profound sense things would soon be “otherwise” for her. I am hoping this poem might interrupt any anxiety and fear you may have with gratitude. “Otherwise” “I got out of bed on two strong legs. It might have been otherwise. I ate cereal, sweet milk, ripe, flawless peach. It might have been otherwise. I took the dog uphill to the birch wood. All morning I did the work I love. At noon I lay down with my mate. It might have been otherwise. We ate dinner together at a table with candlesticks. It might have been otherwise. I slept in a bed in a room with paintings on the walls, and planned another day just like this day. But one day, I know it will be otherwise.” May you inhale the gift of every sunrise, look for the joy hidden under every rock, recognize the gift of those who walk beside you, and be the reason someone else is grateful today.
April is#nationalpoetrymonth and April has almost slipped away so I’m offering two of my favorites that are resonating deeply with me today. Mary Oliver invites me to stop worrying and drag my tired, achy body into the sunlight today and “sing” or at least find a trail with dirt and pay attention to the way the trees and the river sing. I use a beautiful poem by Jane Kenyon called “Otherwise” as a spiritual practice to interrupt anxiety with gratitude. Reminding myself daily that “it might have been otherwise” leads me to gratitude for the ordinary, often overlooked, simple gifts present in every day. Jane Kenyon died of Leukemia at age 47. She wrote this poem shortly before her death with a profound sense things would soon be “otherwise” for her. I am hoping this poem might interrupt any anxiety and fear you may have with gratitude. “Otherwise” “I got out of bed on two strong legs. It might have been otherwise. I ate cereal, sweet milk, ripe, flawless peach. It might have been otherwise. I took the dog uphill to the birch wood. All morning I did the work I love. At noon I lay down with my mate. It might have been otherwise. We ate dinner together at a table with candlesticks. It might have been otherwise. I slept in a bed in a room with paintings on the walls, and planned another day just like this day. But one day, I know it will be otherwise.” May you inhale the gift of every sunrise, look for the joy hidden under every rock, recognize the gift of those who walk beside you, and be the reason someone else is grateful today.
I remember being at the beach watching a young boy and girl building an elaborate sand castle. They spent the whole afternoon working on it when suddenly a big wave rolled in and in seconds wiped out all of their efforts. I would have been devastated and I expected these children to be heartbroken and begin to cry. They shrugged their shoulders as if to say, “Oh well, that’s life!” They ran down the beach laughing and joining hands looking for a new adventure. I couldn’t help but think that all of the complicated structures we spend so much time and energy creating and then protecting are built on sand. Sooner or later the wave comes along and knocks down what we’ve worked so hard to build up. We sacrifice what is most important in life building sand castles only to discover what we missed once they are washed away. There’s a lot of talk these days about what is essential and what is not. Those kids on that beach taught me our sand castles will always get washed away. What is essential is the hand we are willing to extend to another. What is essential right now is the laughter we are willing to share. What is essential right now is the love in our hearts. As long as we remember love is the only thing left standing when the sand castles are washed away, we’ll get through this and be stronger.
I remember being at the beach watching a young boy and girl building an elaborate sand castle. They spent the whole afternoon working on it when suddenly a big wave rolled in and in seconds wiped out all of their efforts. I would have been devastated and I expected these children to be heartbroken and begin to cry. They shrugged their shoulders as if to say, “Oh well, that’s life!” They ran down the beach laughing and joining hands looking for a new adventure. I couldn’t help but think that all of the complicated structures we spend so much time and energy creating and then protecting are built on sand. Sooner or later the wave comes along and knocks down what we’ve worked so hard to build up. We sacrifice what is most important in life building sand castles only to discover what we missed once they are washed away. There’s a lot of talk these days about what is essential and what is not. Those kids on that beach taught me our sand castles will always get washed away. What is essential is the hand we are willing to extend to another. What is essential right now is the laughter we are willing to share. What is essential right now is the love in our hearts. As long as we remember love is the only thing left standing when the sand castles are washed away, we’ll get through this and be stronger.

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