Now in his 72nd year of preaching, Rev. Ronald H. Guettler has stood in pulpits large and small with a single concern: that every hearer might leave knowing Jesus Christ as Savior. His ministry has spanned generations, congregations, and profound changes in church and culture—but his calling has remained steady.
Born on February 11, 1934, in Columbus, Neb., to Armin H. Guettler and Clara H. Genz, Rev. Guettler’s journey into the pastoral office was shaped early by faithful Lutheran schools and a deep love for the Church. After graduating from Immanuel Lutheran School and Kramer High School, he earned an Associate of Arts degree from St. John’s College in Winfield, Kansas, in 1952, and completed his pastoral formation at Concordia Seminary in St. Louis in 1957.
During his vicarage at Bethany Lutheran Church in Vacaville, Calif. (1955–56), he helped build his first church—already learning that pastoral ministry often involves both proclamation and construction. Ordained on July 7, 1957, at Immanuel Lutheran Church in Columbus, Neb., he went on to serve congregations throughout Michigan, including St. Mark, Flint; Faith, Grand Blanc; and later St. Paul, Royal Oak, where he served until his retirement in 1996. Since October 27, 1996, he has continued assisting at Historic in downtown Detroit.
Married to Marilyn Janet Pasche in 1958, Rev. Guettler is the father of four children and grandfather of twelve—a family legacy that runs alongside his ecclesiastical one.
What follows is a conversation reflecting on preaching, faith, and a lifetime in the pulpit.
Q: When was your first sermon? Do you remember the verse or topic?
A: Good Friday, 1954.
Q: Do you have a favorite topic or Bible verse to preach on?
A: No matter the subject, I want everyone to hear enough about Jesus the Savior—in case they have never heard it before. Years ago, a man from Persia was baptized at Historic Trinity. He once brought a friend. I’ve worried ever since whether that friend heard enough about Jesus in my sermon to believe in Him. I’ve prayed for him often.
Q: How long does it take you to prepare a sermon? How has that changed over the years?
A: For many years, I started Sunday afternoon, added through the week, and wrote a working brief on Saturday. Usually, I already had it in my head. Since retiring, I start much earlier—often ten days in advance—and then tweak it. I have rarely written full manuscripts in sixty years; I rely on detailed outlines.
Q: How would you describe your preaching style?
A: Probably persuasive—to get people to think, believe, grasp, understand, and do something the Holy Spirit can work with after they leave church.
Q: Which book of the Bible have you preached on the most?
A: Maybe Luke.
Q: Over 70 years, how many sermons do you think you’ve preached?
A: At least 4,000—maybe 4,300, including weddings and funerals.
Q: What has changed the most in the world over the past 70 years?
A: Christianity and the unbelieving world have taken clearer stands. More public figures now acknowledge their faith, and hostility toward Christianity is more obvious.
Q: What has changed the least?
A: People are lost without Jesus—whether they realize it or not.
Q: Do you have a favorite illustration?
(See sidebar below)
Q: Were you ever nervous when you preached?
A: Always have been. Still am. I want to say something right that the Holy Spirit can use.
Q: Did you ever preach a sermon that caused controversy?
A: Once I preached too harshly about absentees at an Ascension Day service—that was my mistake. There was also some concern about a July 4th sermon years ago; some thought it was political, though it was biblical.
Q: Has anything unusual ever happened during a sermon?
A: A man once slept through the entire sermon—and then told me it was wonderful.
Q: Favorite season of the Church Year to preach?
A: Christmas.
Q: What were the hardest funeral sermons you preached?
A: A couple of stillborn children. A little child hit by a car. A two-year-old girl named Terri Lynn with cancer—she cried every time I saw her for weeks. I can’t remember preaching for anyone older than I am now.
Q: Best or worst sermon feedback?
A: One man was furious, insisting that I had preached directly at him.
Q: What was it like preaching into an empty church during COVID?
A: I was 86 years old. It was strange—but not entirely new. Years earlier, an ice storm left only eight people at a New Year’s Day service.
Q: What is the greatest challenge to preaching in the years ahead?
A: Getting people to listen. Getting them to church—or whatever it will take.
Q: What would you say to your 23-year-old, rookie self?
A: With calling, inviting, building, counseling, and everything else, I wasn’t giving preaching the priority I should have. A layman friend once told me that if I worked harder on sermons, people would appreciate it. I finally learned that preaching is the most important thing we do.
A Faithful Voice Still Heard
Through church buildings raised, vicars mentored, sermons preached, and prayers offered, Rev. Ronald H. Guettler’s ministry bears witness to a singular truth: the Gospel never grows old. Even now, his concern remains the same as it was on Good Friday in 1954—that someone, perhaps hearing for the first time, might come to know Jesus Christ.
Sidebar: “Who’s Your Daddy?”
A seminary professor was vacationing with his wife in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. One morning, they were eating breakfast at a little restaurant, hoping to enjoy a quiet family meal.
While they were waiting for their food, they noticed a distinguished looking, white-haired man moving from table to table, visiting with the guests.
“Where are you folks from?” he asked in a friendly voice.
“Oklahoma,” they answered.
“Great to have you here in Tennessee,” the stranger said... “What do you do for a living?”
“I teach at a seminary,” he replied.
“Oh, so you teach preachers how to preach, do you? Well, I've got a really great story for you.” And with that, the gentleman pulled up a chair and sat down at the table with the couple.
The man started, “See that mountain over there? (Pointing out the restaurant window). Not far from the base of that mountain, there was a boy born to an unwed mother. He had a hard time growing up, because every place he went, he was always asked the same question, 'Hey boy, who's your daddy?' Whether he was at school, in the grocery store or drug store, people would ask the same question, 'Who's your daddy?'
He would hide at recess and lunch time from other students. He would avoid going in to stores because that question hurt him so bad. When he was about 12 years old, a new preacher came to his church. He would always go in late and slip out early to avoid hearing the question, 'Who's your daddy?'
“But one day, the new preacher said the benediction so fast that he got caught and had to walk out with the crowd. Just about the time he got to the back door, the new preacher, not knowing anything about him, put his hand on his shoulder and asked him, “Son, who's
Your daddy?' The whole church got deathly quiet. He could feel every eye in the church looking at him. Now everyone would finally know the answer to the question, 'Who's your daddy?'
“This new preacher, though, sensed the situation around him and, using discernment that only the Holy Spirit could give, said the following to that scared little boy: 'Wait a minute! I know who you are! I see the family resemblance now, you are a child of God.'
“With that, the boy smiled for the first time in a long time and walked out the door a changed person. He was never the same again. Whenever anybody asked him, 'Who's your Daddy?' he'd just tell them, 'I'm a child of God.'
The distinguished gentleman got up from the table and said, “Isn't that a great story?” The professor responded that it really was a great story!
As the man turned to leave, he said, “You know, if that new preacher hadn't told me that I was one of God's children, I probably never would have amounted to anything!” And he walked away.
The seminary professor and his wife were stunned. He called the waitress over and asked her, “Do you know who that man was—the one who just left hat was sitting at our table?”
The waitress grinned and said, “Of course. Everybody here knows him. That's Ben Hooper. He's governor of Tennessee!”
Photos courtesy of Rev. Guttler