Friday, 7 October 2016

A new sunrise

With the dog stirring to say it was time for his morning nature break, I roused myself from sleep. It was a couple of days after moving in to our home in Keswick and our things were still in suitcases and boxes (to be honest many still are). Moving can be very stressful. Nothing is familiar. You can't find anything. You're missing what used to be home, maybe even questioning the decision to relocate in the first place.

With all of these feelings in the background I got out of bed and my mouth dropped open. The sky was a picture of grey clouds and streaks of orange and yellow. It was a brand new sunrise as pretty as any I'd seen in the last 24 years in the West. Everything was going to be okay.

I should have known. I was told as much on a walk in Fogo Island, NL. Glen and I were touring as part of our visit for the 85th birthday of my Nan-in-law. There is a herd of caribou on Fogo and in the hope of seeing some we set out along the coast following a hearty breakfast at the B'n'B.

We wandered along the shore, over a stream, through a grove of trees, across open field, up and down rocky hills, skirting bog. We walked and walked but no caribou was to be seen. But along the way I saw beautiful wildflowers in the foreground of stunning ocean vistas. We were visited by a pair of ravens and a robin. I noticed berries in the undergrowth and as we headed back toward the car we passed several bushes of labrador tea, a traditional medicine I was taught to use by my OjiCree friends in St. Theresa Point.

As I looked about me a voice welled up from within. "Everything you need is here." I recalled an elder teaching me that Creator gives us everything we need to survive. We need to be attentive to the environment, to learn what can be foraged, which plants are medicines, how best to hunt the animals of the area. "Everything you need is here."

I realized that my move to Ontario would be okay. The resources we'd need would be at hand. We'd meet the people who would offer us wisdom. We'd nurture new relationships and forge new ministry partnerships. And we shouldn't discount the personal gifts we were bringing. I may be disoriented for a time but we'd be more than okay.

In these first few days it's become clear that the message I received on that Newfoundland walk is true. We've been welcomed with warmth and enthusiasm. There are lots of people who are eager to offer their gifts in our shared ministry. Ideas and insights are bubbling up within me. A new day has clearly dawned.

Thursday, 29 September 2016

No more prairie sunrises

I awoke at my sister in law's home in Waskada to a beautiful prairie sunrise. Orange sky stretching across the seemingly infinite horizon. Crescent moon hanging in the darkness above.

Realizing this was one of my last prairie sunrises, I felt a wave of sadness. I've been feeling more than a wave lately. On Sunday it was a tsunami. As I preached my last sermon I kept my tablet handy, knowing I'd need to resort to reading parts of it if my emotions got the better of me. 

I haven't felt this overwhelmed on leaving a community since I was moved from St. Theresa Point to The Pas. The definitive word there is "moved." As a priest at the time I really had little choice. Though I felt I had much more to offer in STP, Wassagamack and Garden Hill, my bishop had other plans. In the end he was right. I did significant work as rector of the cathedral and pastor of 4 additional parishes. Heading up the lay leaders training team was a joy. I loved my years in The Pas. It's there I learned the importance of cultivating community partnerships. But I left a piece of my heart in Island Lake.

I realized that the circumstances with this move are similar. My dad's decision not to come West to stay with my sister forced my hand. I knew would not come to Edmonton either. The words "I've lived in Ontario for 50 years" said it all. Plus until we know the cause of his memory issues, we can't risk a major move. I've seen too many seniors deteriorate more quickly when moved involuntarily to unfamiliar surroundings. I had more to offer St. Albert, Edmonton Presbytery and Alberta Northwest Conference. But family comes first. My dad needs support and Glen and I have an opportunity to strengthen a relationship with him in his final years.

And there are others with whom I can share my gifts. Like the move to The Pas, I know this next chapter of my life is Spirit-led. It feels like doors have opened easily. I'm excited by a new opportunity in a new community. The folks in Richmond Hill are doing good work and exploring new possibilities for ministry. I'm looking forward to jumping into the fray. Plus there will be opportunities to work with colleagues in Living Waters Presbytery and Toronto Conference. This move is the right move for both me and Glen.

But those prairie sunrises are an important part of my story. And I will miss them.

Wednesday, 21 September 2016


It is a disorienting experience to see all of your worldlies boxed up and piled into a couple of transport cubes. It is even more disorienting to realize that you will be homeless for three weeks, having to vacate your home of ten years before you are actually leaving the city for your new digs thousands of kilometres away. But that's what happens when you up sticks.

Of course we haven't actually been homeless. Family rises to the occasion in times like this and my in-laws offered to host while Glen and I were in limbo. Overall the experience has been good. Barb and Ralph are very caring people, wanting to make sure that Barb's firstborn and his mate are looked after. Sometimes they care too much, wanting to be sure I eat, even if it means needing to wolf down because I am still working and have commitments.

That experience highlights an interesting dynamic, that is how rooted we all are in how we do things. Glen and I have our habits, and Barb and Ralph have theirs. One of those habits is having supper promptly at 6 even if your son-in-law needs to be downtown half an hour later, and insisting he has something to eat because he needs to stay healthy. It's sweet and frustrating at the same time. They are very tidy people. Which initially meant having to hunt for my sandals because they'd been whisked out of site. I eventually figured out where they were. Further, they aren't used to having a dog around which meant the sudden appearance of air fresheners in our temporary bedroom and the family room where Finley spends most of his time. And yet they have mentioned more than once how well-behaved he is. I chalk it up to their wanting to reassure us that Finley is welcome despite their not being used to having a four-legged housemate.

One of the interesting things about living in a new location temporarily is that I had to find a new commuting route. I was used to traveling to St. Albert just on city roads but now I head to work partly on the highway. My first time doing so I giggled to myself. "I guess this will help me get used to my new reality in Ontario."

That experience made me realize that these weeks have been a gift. I am reminded that I will have to get used to more than just a highway commute. I have my ministerial habits. Richmond Hill United Church has its own ethos and culture, just as St. Albert United does. Like my in-laws with their eating times, tidiness and unfamiliarity living with a dog, the good folks at RHUC will have their patterns and habits, their comforts and uncertainties. I in turn have mine. We will need to learn about each other, to accommodate each other and grow to appreciate each other's habits and perspectives.

This time with my in-laws has at times tested my patience. I have definitely tested theirs. When we test each other's patience at RHUC, I will draw on the memories of these weeks and recall how they were always wrapped in love.

Tuesday, 23 August 2016

Beginnings mean Endings

On our return back from Newfoundland, Glen and I stopped for a few days in the GTA to look for a house. It was exciting looking at various properties for lease, especially given that just before we left Newfoundland, we sold our home in Edmonton.

That image which our realtor sent us meant that we could focus on house hunting with one less stress point back home. It also meant we really were moving. We looked at a number of properties for lease in an area north of Richmond Hill. We want to be partway between my new congregation and the town where my dad is living. After all it is in large part to offer him additional care and support that we chose to leave Alberta at this time.

The day we were to look at properties we got a good taste of what is on the horizon. We decided to visit my dad pre-house-hunting. He'd been calling my brother a lot in the lead up to our visit, letting him know he'd looked on Kijiji at properties, offering advice as to possible neighbourhoods, wondering if he could come along with us in our search. Clearly he wanted to help and a visit would help him feel involved. It was also an opportunity to help him catch his cat which had to go to the vet. It was in the vet visit that things started to go off the rails. Without going into details suffice it to say he annoyed the staff, had an emotional outburst, complained about being sidelined had trouble remembering important information. I thought to myself how out of character all this was with the dad I knew growing up, but how it was increasingly the man he was becoming. It underscored why we were moving, but I also felt a huge wave of "buyer's remorse" - could I handle what was coming.

That became clearer still a couple of days later. We had found a house to lease, signed the appropriate documents and dropped off a cheque with the first and last month's rent. We were on our way.

But I woke up at my niece's in a wave of concern about housing costs and utility rates in Ontario, wondering if we should have looked at more properties, worried we were biting off more than we could chew. It wasn't until later that day that I realized what was really going on. With the housing issue dealt with we could relax a bit and go visit my nephew who was doing some training in Prince Edward County. We decided to visit a cidery, do some tasting and go to some artisanal cheese shops.

But it was standing in an artist cooperative gallery that I realized what was going on. I had been enjoying the scenery on the road up, reflecting on how it was so familiar to what I grew up with compared to the last 25 years in Manitoba and Alberta. 

But then I as I looked at a photograph of a farmer's field with a big sky (similar to the one above), I realized how much the landscape of Canada's west have seeped into my soul. I'm going to miss the big skies. I'm going to miss the rolling fields of wheat and canola. I'm going to miss up north as well with its lakes and forests and rock. What I was feeling was the beginning of grief.

As much as I embrace the future of this journey, it comes with the realization that moving along a path also means walking away from somewhere. 

That part is bittersweet.

Tuesday, 26 July 2016

A New Journey

Those of you who have read my blog from the beginning may recall that at the beginning of my sabbatical at this time last year I stated that I was open to whatever the Spirit had in store for me. That as you know unfolded in many unexpected ways, including my father-in-law having a serious injury while riding his bike in Corner Brook, many of my arrangements in the UK needing to be massaged a bit, sometimes quite a lot. I was being invited to let go of control. I knew that in my heart and the reality is that continues to be the something I'm experiencing.

Case in point, before I left on my sabbatical, the plan was for my father to move out to Alberta where I live at present and my sister had just returned to be closer to her children. By the time I returned all of that had changed and my dad was clear that he didn't want to move having spent 50 years of his adult life in Ontario. I couldn't blame him. But as the one sibling without children, and having a career where moving is very doable, the die was cast.

The upshot is that Glen and I decided that the move we had planned a few years down the road was going to come sooner rather than later. And so now begins another journey, this time as we sell out house and head east to Ontario where I've accepted a call to Richmond Hill United Church. 

As we begin this adventure I'm both excited and sad. I've lived in Western Canada for nearly my entire adult life, and so I am feeling a bit like my dad. This is the part of the country I've come to know and love, half spent in Manitoba and the other half in Alberta. It's in the West that I grew as a minister (or priest for the first half of my vocation). It's in the West that I began working with Indigenous people and felt deeply connected to their culture and spirituality. It's in the West that I plucked up the courage to leave the priesthood and become a minister with the United Church of Canada. And that was possible because in the West I met Glen, fell in love, married him and set down roots. I owe so much to this part of the country.

It's also in the West that I began exploring new ways of being church, which is where my excitement comes in. My sabbatical had been all about deepening my understanding of Fresh Expressions and Emergent forms of church. It's what I've dabbled around in terms of my work in Presbytery, and that I've wanted to explore more deeply in my ministry in St. Albert. And I've begun to do that a bit since coming home. We now have a monthly coffeehouse style worship and we've launched a Forest Church for the warmer months with the hope that the colder months will be an arts based worship. But my move to the GTA will afford me a whole new opportunity. When I was looking for possible churches, the position in Richmond Hill jumped off the page. They were looking at redeveloping their property. They knew that they needed to change. They were open to exploring new ways of being church. As I interviewed their openness to something new was clear. I'd found a match. 

So begins a new journey. Stay tuned for more reflections from the road.   

Wednesday, 25 November 2015

An epic journey comes to an end

This past week as I drove into Calgary, my epic journey was coming to an end. I had flown from Edmonton to Newfoundland and on to the UK, traveled around the UK by train, car and on foot, flown back to Canada and drove close to 15,000 km from Edmonton to Ontario, down to San Diego via Minneapolis and Denver, and home again. I visited with 10 ministries/churches/clergy in England, Scotland and Wales and more than 30 ministries/churches/clergy/organizations in North America. It ended up being so much more than I had planned, as each visit opened up the possibility of yet another conversation or visit. As people suggested different books to read or websites to check out I now have a list of some 25 books, webpages and blogs to explore. It was epic, exciting, sometimes exhausting, but always enlightening.

As I visited with the good folks of Hillhurst United Church, I came full circle in my journey, having begun my time away with United Church leaders at General Council, one of whom was Danielle Ayana James who is now in ministry at Hillhurst. At General Council a group put on a series of skits, one of which likened the United Church to the Titanic. At times it can feel like we are on a sinking ship, the reorganizing exercise we're engaged in a rearranging of deck chairs. And yet there are amazing places like Hillhurst in Calgary that remind us that church decline is not an inevitability. With attendance quadrupling over 7 years, they are poised to begin a third worship service. With Radical Hospitality, Social Justice and Spirituality as its touchstones, this congregation emulates some of what I saw in the new and thriving ministries I saw on my sabbatical: we need to be willing to take risks and sometimes fail, be intentional about welcoming newcomers and helping them feel at home, practice true hospitality of everyone, regardless of orientation, gender identity, race or status, invest in ministries with children, youth and young adults, talk less and be open to incorporating ritual elements in worship, be less churchy in music and language and open to what gifts the culture can bring to our life together, and commit to living out our Sunday in day to day justice and outreach.

As I sat at Danielle's table enjoying dinner the conversation shifted from what's going on at Hillhurst to what else I learned on my sabbatical. Here are some things that I gleaned:

1. The Way of Jesus still draws people.
I visited ministries that are mostly twenty and thirty somethings. They gathered to pray, to be inspired, to be part of a community that wants to  transform the world. They heard Jesus' radical message of justice and love and wanted to take that message seriously. We can take Jesus seriously and still be open to other faith traditions. We can preach Jesus without the constraints of conservative theologies of atonement, etc.

2. What doesn't draw people is top-down institutions.
The ministries with the largest percentages of younger people were flat in their structure and permission-giving in their culture. In a variety of ways they ensured that people felt their voices mattered. It may have been divying out the various parts, having people pray for each other in small groups, having a more conversational preaching style, including lay preachers on a regular basis, the list goes on. The common feature was a more democratic, participatory approach to church.

3. Community is important.
People spoke most positively of ministries where they felt at home. They were hugged. They were welcomed as they are. They were part of a small group where they were both affirmed and challenged. They shared meals and laughed together. They felt supported in times of crisis. For some, this means living in intentional community, either together in one house or by meeting regularly to pray together, share

4. So is cultural context.
One of the challenges of traditional Christianity is our tendency to hold on to inherited patterns without critical thought. We use language that carries theological baggage. We use churchy words that no one really understands and so create an "us" and a "them". We can reframe what we do in the sub-cultural contexts of our post-modern world. There is music in popular culture which speak more deeply of Spirit than many hymns. People want to feel their lives are affirmed, that who they are is valued. This means more than embracing technology. It means expressing the gospel in indigenous language and ritual - be it Cree, Creole, goth or geek.

5. We are bodies and so worship needs to be embodied.
Protestant worship tends to be very heady. We talk a lot. We fear too much silence. Rituals are suspect. And yet where I saw the largest numbers of younger adults, the worship was embodied. Evangelicals sharing communion every week. People bringing symbols from their lives to share with others. Candles and incense and icons. Body prayers. Anointings and the laying on of hands. Art and dance. Going outside and lying under the branches of a tree. Listening to the heart of the earth.

6. We need to raise the bar rather than lower it.
It is important to create a space where everyone is welcomed. But that doesn't mean we water down what it means to follow Jesus. We walk his way 24/7. We pray for the world and more than that get our hands dirty responding to the hurt of the world. It may be bleaching needles for safe-injection sites. It may be finding ways to give gang members viable job skills. It may be living simply, eating locally and buying ethically. It may be finding ways to honour creation. Whatever the expression, we need to take seriously what it means to be a disciple. And we do it in community, offering both challenge and encouragement.

7. We can't invite others to follow Jesus unless we are following him ourselves.
The United Reformed Church in the UK very wisely decided not to be a partner in Fresh Expressions until they had embarked on a course of adult education. They understood that one of the prime barriers to being a more outward-focused, missional church is lack of confidence as people of faith. One of the assumptions of planting a new ministry is that as we grow in relationships, people will start asking about Christ. What do we say when asked? We have created a professional class of Christians, with churches as lecture halls where laity come to be told what to do. Instead, churches need to be hospitals where we heal from our brokenness and labs where we ask questions and explore faith for ourselves. Then when we go out t work with others in the world, we can share why we follow the way of Christ at a more personal level.

These are just a few thoughts about what I've learned. The experiences I've had and the insights I've received can only deepen over time. In many ways the epic journey I've been on has only just begun.

Saturday, 21 November 2015

More than just on Sunday, on Sunday, on Sunday

On Monday I returned to Canada, travelling from Seattle to Vancouver. As has been the pattern for my sabbatical my planned visit with two communities turned into visits with three communities, lunch with a colleague and drinks with your clergy and students anxious to be church in new ways.

My first stop was to First United Community Ministry. It's a going concern. The sanctuary was converted into drop-in space, the balcony made into shelter space for men and the former Sunday School reconfigured into the women's shelter. Like Broad Street Ministry, FUCMS offers meals, a postal address, toiletry supplies, and storage for personal items. A couple of doors down they run a thrift shop and connect to social housing down the street. It's an amazing place, effectively the Bissell Centre working with a much larger population. Having become a street ministry, in recent years they have committed to being a church again. Now by this they don't mean to gather on Sunday, but rather to be clear that Jesus is in the centre of what they do. And so they now have a community minister who facilitates worship during the week, offers pastoral support to guests and staff alike, keeps Christian values at the centre of their work.

Also located in the area is a Salvation Army college which also facilitates a Boiler Room, an intentional prayer ministry intended to spiritually hold the needs of the community before G-d. Part of the 24/7 movement, the 614 Boiler Room were at one point praying around the clock for the Downtown Eastside. They've since scaled back abit but students and staff and others in the community set aside time to pray (no particular type of prayer required) and beyond that make outreach and justice work in the community a constant concern. Many live in the neighbourhood and share accommodations with folks on the edge. When I suggested that what they are doing feels a bit like the prayer ministry of medieval nuns and monks, Melina and Nicole readily agreed. They were praying for and with the community but more than that were offering hospitality and love in a very broken neighbourhood. Inspiring work.

Across the inlet in North Vancouver, Mount Seymour United Church runs a thrift shop, has an open "cafe space" and recently started a spirituality centre where people gather during the week to explore different spiritual practices. Near the Kitsilano neighbourhood a congregation is running a justice-seeking, queer inclusive, loco-vegan cafe. Intentionally partnering with neighbourhood groups they are creating an everyday community space for people of all faiths. Both congregations understand that "being" church is more than "doing" Sunday worship.

This is something that we all know in our guts but sometimes struggle to make happen. And yet there is a younger cohort of ministers and theology students who hunger for church to be more than traditional Sunday worship. One colleague has created a Christian yoga practice called Yoga Chapel, combining the biblical narrative with the physicality of yoga. Another is part of a group who worship outside as they explore what it means to be more just in our relationship with the environment. Another wants to establish an intentional community of young adults committed to seeking transformation in their neighbourhood.

There seems to be a growing desire to go beyond Sunday. For me that yearning is a sign of hope for the church. We are remembering that Jesus' core purpose wasn't to form a church. He galvanized a movement committed to living into his message of G-d's saving justice and love.  The communities which formed spent time in worship on a Sunday as a way to be nourished in their day to day living of the kingdom. Our future will only be as bright as our holding onto that memory.