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.

Thursday 19 November 2015

Ancient Future

As part of my pilgrimage in the West, I had the opportunity to visit with two communities that are rooted in the liturgical tradition but are so in a fresh and engaging way - House for All Sinners and Saints in Denver and Church of the Apostles in Seattle.

Founded by Lutheran pastor Nadia Bolz-Webber, HFASS describes itself as "a group of folks figuring out how to be a liturgical, Christo-centric, social justice oriented, queer inclusive, incarnational, contemplative, irreverent, ancient-future church with a progressive but deeply rooted theological imagination." They are just that. It was November 1 when Glen and I visited.  As we came to the church door you knew something good was going to happen. Along with the sandwich board announcing that this  progressive Christo-centric liturgical community was gathering, there was a black velvet painting of Elvis propped at the door welcoming us in. As people arrived, several went to makeshift "altars" to place on them memorabilia of loved ones. On one was a bobble-head Martin Luther and on another a pencil sketch of Dorothy Day. The liturgy began simply with a rung tone of a singing bowl. After Nadia and Reagan welcomed everyone, the very diverse crowd of mostly young adults rose as we joined in the "Litany of the Saints", shared some brief prayers and then processed into the hall (their usual worship space) to "When All the Saints" where the liturgy continued with readings, sermon, a time of "open space" where people could participate in an activity to help them integrate what they'd heard, and the eucharist.

Also founded by a Lutheran pastor, Karen Ward, COTA is an ecumenical community supported by the Episcopal Church along with the ELCA. They too are predominantly a young adult congregation, exploring what it means to be as they call it "ancient faith - future church". When I visited with them in Seattle last Sunday I was struck by the similar energy to HFASS. The space was dim and reflective. A band played cool music in the background as people gathered. Then Ivar (Karen has moved one) welcomed everyone and invited people to light a candle and any point in the service as a sign of solidarity and expression of lament for the bombings in Beirut and Paris. COTA generally share original music and that night was no different as we joined in a poignant version of Psalm 16, expressing a deep yearning for protection in a time of distress. Like HFASS, there is a time for "open space" after the message followed by a sharing in the eucharist. I opted to spend time praying at an icon of Christ and lit a candle. As it turns out Nadia visited COTA when she was founding HFASS so it's no surprise there are resonances.

As I shared with members of COTA during a potluck after worship, the "open space" time is an important way for people to connect with G-d and explore the message at a deeper level. It honours an important value of COTA (and I suspect HFASS), namely a truly inclusive spirit, not just in terms of affirming LGBTQ folks but also affirming people's spiritual journeys. It names the fact that no one's relationship with the Holy is the same and that we all need to be able to explore what that means for ourselves. It creates space for people to be authentic and vulnerable and in that a true sense of community is born. The open space time varies from week to week. That inclusiveness is also expressed in fairly flat ecclesial structure and leadership style. Both communities take very seriously the priesthood of all believers and honour it by sharing the parts of the liturgy as broadly as they can. At HFASS they also read out the prayers that people have written down as part of open space.

Another important part of these communities is the reclaiming of ancient practice. Be it singing the "Litany of the Saints", lighting candles, having icons, walking the labyrinth, chanting together, there is a desire to be grounded in less cerebral, more physical prayer forms. "There is a need for this in our world," Ivar mused as we chatted together. "Because the world is changing so much, people are looking to ancient practices as a way to feel rooted again."

He may well be right. There is clearly something about both communities that is speaking to the hearts of twenty and thirty somethings. Perhaps before we write our eulogies for the church, we need to look to our past as a source of energy and inspiration for our future.

Monday 16 November 2015

Tales of Two Cities

En route north between Los Angeles and Seattle, I stopped over in San Francisco with Mark Scandrette, who with his spouse Lisa, run discipleship labs, extended times of critical engagement with faith and life. An example maybe seeing your neighbourhood with new eyes and so participants will commit to exploring their neighbourhood and intentionally meeting people, trying new foods, engaging in conversation. Or it may be disconnecting from media and so committing to no Facebook and TV. They do these experiments in supportive community, always with an aim to growing as followers of Jesus and bringing more love and peace into the world. I'm not giving justice to how amazing these labs are.


As part of my visit Mark and I went for a walk in the Mission neighborhood and he took me past an alley of murals, one of which captures Mission in two phases of its life - as a predominantly Latino neighbourhood rife with issues of poverty and racism, and then as a hipster neighbourhood with cool coffee shops and boutiques. Mark told me that the neighbourhood is transitioning again into a gentrified area as Silicon Valley-ites move in. Mark Zuckerberg has bought a condo up the street.

Anyhow, the mural captured for me a consistent reality I saw in this West Coast leg of my pilgrimage. I spent a couple of days in LA with friends, staying just north of Beverly Hills and Bel Air. We toured around, taking in the sites, even driving through some of the posh neighbourhoods. I was struck by the privilege that I saw. Media moguls and celebrities driving their fancy cars. Large houses and well manicured lawns. Then as we drove east the landscape changed. Things got a bit rougher around the edges. At a light a couple of young men rolled down the car window and asked for directions to the Interstate. "Did you notice the three tears tattooed on his face?" J asked? "That means he's killed three people." We were definitely not in Beverly Hills anymore.

The next day I took a tour of Homeboy Industries in downtown LA. Founded by Fr. Greg Boyle, Homeboy Industries is a gang intervention agency, providing work experience, education and social support for men and women in the inner city. Our tour guide was a thirty-something year old man who'd been convicted as a juvenile but treated as an adult. After serving 14 years, F had turned his life around through Homeboy Industries. His face and neck had been covered with tattoos but through the tattoo removal program he was a clean slate. He is in college preparing to be a psychotherapist. I was blown away by his courage and conviction.

As I headed north towards San Francisco I passed through the arid mountains and into the Salinas Valley fields made green through irrigation. As I listened to Spanish radio and noticed the clusters of houses like I'd seen before in Mexico I couldn't help but wonder about the conditions of the farm workers. How are they treated? How many are undocumented? How do they feel about the anti-immigration rhetoric on Anglo radio? From there I stopped in Carmel-by-the-Sea, drove past Pebble Beach and visited Cannery Row in Monterey, a tourist destination in what was once the sardine factories written about by John Steinbeck. As I headed back toward Salinas in the dark and on to San Francisco, I noticed a truck in the field illuminated by light. Field workers were processing vegetables and would likely be doing so late into the night.

Salinas is a short drive from the coast, less than half an hour, but it is worlds apart. Like Beverly Hills and East LA, Monterey and Salinas are two very different cities. They are separated not so much by distance but by privilege and racism. The world we live in is a long way away from the kingdom that Jesus preached and gave his life for, despite all of the so-called Christians living in enclaves of wealth and buying food processed by workers just up the  road.

I may not be driving a fancy car but I know that I'm  privileged too.  Which makes the discipleship labs of Mark and Lisa all the more important.  As followers of Jesus, we have spent too much time justifying the world we've created and not enough time living into G-d's kingdom of love and justice. Perhaps it's time to give real discipleship a try.

Friday 13 November 2015

Three national parks

On Halloween day, Glen arrived to accompany me on part of my journey. After a couple of days in Denver we ventured west towards Phoenix and beyond. As part of our grand road trip we decided to take in three national parks. Each park was amazing,  not just for the natural beauty but for the insights that came from the experiences.

Our first visit was to Arches just outside of Moab in the desert of southeastern Utah. We arrived with only 2 hours before sundown. It was beautiful to see the sculptural forms of Balancing Rock, North and South Windows and the Fiery Furnace in the waning light. The following day we visited Mesa Verde in southwestern Colorado, a park which preserves the cliff dwellings of the Pueblo people. Unfortunately due to safety concerns with the rock face, we couldn't go into Spruce Tree House, but we could see it quite clearly. We also took the Mesa Loop and visited various sites, seeing the evolution of dwellings from pit houses to pueblos to houses built into the cliffs and hiked two miles to see petroglyphs carved into cliff. It was amazing to think how people farmed on top of the mesa and lived along the cliffs, climbing rock walls as if they were sidewalks. The final visit was to the Grand Canyon, an "experience" not just because of the breathtaking grandeur but also because of the weather.

It had been snowing in Flagstaff when we left but there was a fortunate break in the cloud cover when we arrived at the Grand Canyon. Aware of our weather "window" we started with a "short" hike into the canyon. We didn't want to go too far down, aware as well that for every minute you descend it takes you two to climb back out. Glen was a trooper, hiking down the trail for a good 45 minutes. But as we looked down towards Mile and a Half Resthouse and then back up at the long trail back to the rim he'd reached his limit and we slogged our way back out. We followed that up with a hike along the rim. That was spectacular. Each turn brought another extraordinary view. We could also see the storm clouds rolling in. As we sat down to lunch our luck finally gave out. With snow falling around us we looked out to see only cloud and fog. We went to explore the visitor centre but with no cloud breaks decided to go. The snow continued as we left the canyon and by the end of the night the region received a record breaking snowfall.
These days of national park visits were truly amazing. And insightful, about life, church, the universe. Here's what I learned:

1. Always be prepared.
2. Try looking at something from a different perspective.
3. People are incredibly adaptable. We can create life-giving communiities in the most unexpected places.
4. You can't control events and that's OK.
5. Trust your driver.
6. There's more than one way to reach your destination. It may present new challenges (like going down rock stairs more easily gone up) but you'll get there in the end.
7. What you experience won't be what you pictured in your head and that makes it better.
8. Don't only look at the big picture. If you don't watch your step you may step in mule dung.
9. You can only go as fast as the group. There's no point plowing ahead if you're going to end up standing there alone.
10. Listen to the needs of everyone.
11. Always expect the unexpected. You may think there's nothing more to wow you. You'll be wrong.
12. Be open to what unfolds. There's beauty in the storm clouds.

Monday 9 November 2015

More siblings than cousins


As much as the last couple of months have been a professional sojourn, this time away has also been a personal pilgrimage of insight and discovery. I have always prided myself as a non judgmental, pretty open guy, but this time away has called me to see where some of my blindnesses are.

One of those spots is my smugness when it comes to our American "cousins". As I crossed the border into Detroit, I noted the immediate differences between Canada and the US. Most Canadians can rattle them off. But the longer I've been traveling South of the border the more I am struck that we are more siblings than cousins. This began to come into focus as I spent time in Minneapolis. In addition to spending time at Solomon's Porch, I experienced amazing coffee, biked around the " chain of lakes" and soaked up the liberal capital city vibe. The longer I stayed and chatted with people about life and politics and community issues, the more I was reminded of Edmonton. As I ventured on to Omaha and its prairie feel as well as its tense history with Indigenous people, its worth a visit zoo and cool "old market", I was reminded of Winnipeg. Denver in many ways felt like Calgary, especially with its cowboy meets corporate energy (as well as the fact that downtown was pretty dead on the Saturday).

I too often have closed myself from appreciating the US with a sense of superiority. Many of their gifts are ours, and their problems as well. Like them we are entrepreneurial, very individualistic and freedom loving. They are also community minded, generous and welcoming. Like them we struggle with racial tension, an increasing gap between wealthy and poor, and growing urban sprawl. We may solve our issues differently, but we're siblings, not clones.

This "aha" moment wasn't a complete turnaround. Like any insight, this one needed deeper integration. A couple of experiences made me ponder my biases more deeply, and come to an even deeper experience of siblinghood. While visiting Denver, Glen and I took in the Denver Art Gallery. There was a lot to see and with an afternoon appointment time was at a premium. As we went from floor to floor and considered skipping sections, I started to prioritize what I wanted to see. Contemporary? Yes. Indigenous? Yes. African? Yes. Asian?... I considered passing it by, but thankfully didn't. I would have missed serene Japanese glazeware, a stunning Tibetan sand painting and intricately carved bamboo sculptures. I may not have an immediate affinity with the various styles of Asian cultures, but I owe it to myself to be more open. As I came away, I was struck by the one great similarity - the human desire to create art, to appreciate beauty, to comment on experience through colour and pattern and form.

These same thoughts came to me as Glen and I left the Musical Instruments Museum in Phoenix. Again we were pressed for time and I  needed to set priorities. Once again I tilted toward European, North American and Indigenous displays. I gave insufficient time to Asia, Africa and the Middle East. Given my lack of knowledge, these were the regions I should have focused on. Did I learn nothing in Denver? Despite that lack, I again was struck by how alike we all are. Every culture uses wind and string and drum. Every culture uses voice and rhythm and dance to pray, to celebrate, to communicate. Every culture adapts and evolves musical forms through encounters with other groups. We are truly one human family.

I've always prided myself on being a true lover of humanity. I also need to confess my biases. I need to be more open to what I can learn from others. Only with greater awareness of our similarities, along with a greater understanding of our differences, will we be more than just cousins.

Monday 2 November 2015

Hanging out in the Porch

Monday 26 October 2015

It's all about community, Part II



There was a contagious buzz in the air. We had just shared a prayer of confession with one another and now we're invited to share a sign of peace. As the centre aisle filled with people shaking hands, hugging, and greeting each other, there was a sense that this weekly moment defines this community. There was a true sense of shalom as people from many nations and tongues expressed a hope for true peace and reconciliation. This was my experience of Church of All Nations, a Presbyterian Church (USA) congregation in metro Minneapolis. They are living out what we aspire to be as The United Church of Canada. We talk about becoming an intercultural church. They are living intercultural church. Planted by a local Korean Presbyterian congregation, the flags that hang from the sanctuary ceiling captures the diversity that has organically evolved here. The staff, mostly volunteer, are a United Nations of roles and backgrounds. But they all have one purpose - being a community shaped for outreach.



As we shared over a cup of coffee in their "Corner Cafe", Jin, the pastor, expressed how their life together was not an end in itself but was to help them do the work of Jesus in the world. They describe themselves as a low anxiety, high risk community. It's about creating a space where people can be their authentic selves, sharing who they are so that together they can risk confronting the legacy of empire in our relationships and world. As I listened to Jin, I was reminded that we don't form a community of faith as an end in itself but gather to help one another grow as disciples, called out into the community to show compassion, share love, work for reconciliation and peace. We worship together reflecting together the rule of G-d we long for. We study together, applying the way of Jesus in our day to day. We confess our faults, acknowledging our own contributions to hurt and oppression in the world. It's all about community - shaped for outreach in the world.

This is the core of The Meeting House huddles and home churches. To help people become more Christ like, so that they can live his transforming mission in the world. This is the core of the covenant made by members of the Jeremiah Community. To be a presence of love and grace in their neighbourhoods. This is what the supportive services of Tree of Life are about. To witness to the power of authentic community. As Heather shared with me, that kind of community hits too close to home for some. There are very few white families who stick it out in this intercultural community. Sticking it out means getting your hands dirty. It means not just talking about poverty but helping someone who is poor. It means confronting your own racism when you feel uncomfortable with your children's playmates. Which means most white families wander back to churches that look more like them.



At Church of All Nations, there's a greater desire to stick it out. Initially majority Korean, for the longest time there was no majority racial group. Recently the congregation has become 52% white. As I ponder the stickability here and not at Tree of Life, I suspect it has a lot to do with Jin's leadership. "I think white people carry a great burden," he says to me. "White people are constantly told that the imperial culture they helped create is the best in the world. They need to justify a system that's killing us. That's really difficult to do." And so they have healing services 4 or 5 times a year. The services aren't about the burden of empire, but I'm sure they help those burdened because of it. They create a space for a compassionate response as we all confront the system together. This kind of compassion is critical if we are going to do the critical engagement we need to do. This is why.

As part of my sabbatical, I've taken advantage of AirBnB, an online service of people who are willing to rent out rooms in their homes for generally reasonable rates. For the most part it's gone well but in Minneapolis what I'd been dreading happened. I pulled up to a house overrun with weeds. There was a random toilet and sink in the front room and a scary bathroom in the basement. The room I was staying in was at the top of a very steep flight of stairs with no door. As I went to bed, I questioned why I was staying there. "Because it's cheap and I'm in the Twin Cities for a week," I reminded myself. When I got up, I mentally crossed off a day in my mental calendar. With Solomon's Porch closed until Sunday, I had two days to kill. I stayed away from the house as long as I could, going from coffee shop to coffee shop for warmth and WiFi. I sat down in the local McDonald's noting I was the lone white person in a predominantly Black and Latino crowd. That was It got me thinking about race relations, the reality of a racialized underclass on both sides of the border, and the privilege I have as a white male. When I finally saw Doug he offered me a place to stay. I said yes right away but as I drove away from my host's home I felt guilty. I was in a position of privilege, able to find more comfortable digs. Others in that neighbourhood had no such luck.

And that's the rub of it. In that moment I came face to face with the paralysis that can grip us when we want to confront the injustices of our world. It was a form of social paralysis that made it so difficult for more privileged families in South Bend to keep going to Tree of Life. It's a mental paralysis that keeps so many of us from learning about inadequate housing, indemic poverty and other indigenous issues. It's an emotional paralysis that kept me beating myself up for most of the evening. It's a spiritual paralysis that holds us from confronting the core issues of our world.

And so Church of All Nations includes healing services as part of their ministry, responding with compassion to all of their members, each in their own way carrying the burden of an unjust, imperial system. They understand that we need supportive community if we are going to do the hard work of living the Way of Jesus. We need micro-community if we are going to live into the macro-community otherwise known as the kingdom of G-d.

Saturday 24 October 2015

It's all about community

This past week I wrapped up the Ontario, NE USA portion of my grand pilgrimage, visiting with folks in three worshipping communities, one in Burlington, one in Toronto and one in South Bend, Indiana (barely still the NE, maybe just in the Midwest, but for the purposes of this post...). As I reflect on my experiences, I continue to be struck by the importance of community, a foundational value for what I experienced in London and Philadelphia as well. In each case, worship is important but only inasmuch as it facilitates community.

As I posted earlier, at Trinity in London, a critical part of the service is the naming of birthdays, anniversaries, bereavements, etc. It's not a long part of the service but one which is clearly owned by that community. They truly know and care for each other, and as an outsider, it was inviting.

At Broad Street in Philly, a key portion of their life together is the six day a week meal ministry. Because many of the people who come for a meal are vulnerable people, creating a sense of community is key to offering respect and dignity. People are welcomed as they would be to a restaurant and invited to wait until a seat is ready. The waiting area is arranged so that people can converse while they wait. This sense of connection is critical to folks otherwise invisible in their daily lives.

The Meeting House in Burlington is one of sixteen worshipping communities across Southwestern Ontario. They are mobile communities, coming together in movie theatres. The service is fairly typical of Evangelical communities. Except of course that the message is broadcast by video. This isn't about saving money. It's about community. By having one teaching pastor over sixteen sites, the regional pastors can focus on pastoring pastors. The focus of The Meeting House is house churches, groups of 10-12, further broken down into 3-4 member huddles. This is where church happens, in relationships of support and accountability. The regional pastors focus on empowering leaders and helping them offer care. Their focus is on becoming more Christ-like, so that as his followers we can bring healing to the world. 

The Jeremiah Community in Parkdale in Toronto is an Anglican intentional community. They don't live together but are in community nevertheless. While living separately, several families and singles enter year long covenants where they pledge to worship, pray and be present to each other and their neighbours. They form community with each other but not as an end itself but to be a gift to others. 


My final visit was in South Bend at Tree of Life. This was an add-on, a visit en route between Toronto and Minneapolis, but a gift. Heather and Justice are a couple who have planted a neighbourhood church almost by accident. They began by simply getting to know their neighbours. As time went on and relationships deepened, they began praying together and offering a kids club to neighbourhood children and youth. Nothing special except this is an exceptionally poor and underserved neighbourhood in South Bend, the chosen placement area for refugee families. It's a diverse neighbourhood of people from all over the world, and this church has become a significant vehicle for support and care, a place where different cultures, languages and life experiences are affirmed. This is lived out on a Sunday, especially as they form small clusters of three or four during the prayers of the people. As they pray for and with each other, they express what true community looks like.

These were very different groups from each other. Evangelical, Presbyterian, Anglican, United Church. Suburban, inner city, urban, small town. But different as they were, supportive and accountable community is foundational to each of them. They believe that being in community is the best way to live out the Christian message. Given that Jesus made circles of friends foundational to his ministry, I suspect they're all on to something.

Friday 16 October 2015

The Philadelphia Experiment

As I drove from London to Philadelphia I questioned my sanity. My schedule had shifted and I was now going to be in Philly earlier than planned, and for half the time. Nine hundred km is a long way to drive for two and a half days. But along with my plan to meet up with Lydia and Jim, United Methodist elders I'd met in Phoenix last winter, I'd made a commitment to visit with my cousins.

As I sat down with Lydia for coffee and a scone, my earlier self doubt resurfaced. "Starting Point has folded. We gave it a good run but have discerned that it's time to step away. We're just not getting the critical mass." I knew Lydia was taking a break but I didn't know they were folding completely. What was the point of my being there? "Eight out of ten new ministries close. That's part of church planting," she said. "Fortunately I've had some successes too." I breathed a sigh of relief. "Let's talk about successes and failures," I suggested.

And we did just that. We talked about the importance of a clear core vision, and the willingness to adapt the how of the vision over time. We talked about advertising and "previews" of the worship. And we talked about Christian Base Communities.

It was here that Lydia really lit up. Clearly the times she had worked as a lay urban missionary held her heart. She had formed small groups of people who met regularly to reflect on their life circumstances and local issues, and through biblical analysis, reflected on how G-d was calling them to respond. When I was in seminary I'd written a paper on base communities in Latin America. I'd heard of their formation in North America, but here was someone with first hand experience. "It's important to connect these groups to a worshipping community or you end up leading that part and the next thing you know that takes all of your focus," she reflected. "Worship is important but only in its way of helping us renew the world around us."

Social justice was the focus of the conversation the following evening with Jim, Lydia and Robin. Robin's congregation had been part of a redevelopment project. "What is your mission?" Robin asked as we discussed possible property redevelopments in Edmonton Presbytery. "If your main call isn't going out into the community to lift up the disenfranchised then you might as well quit what you're doing." Together we spoke of the transformative power of the gospel, of the need to stop pulling out of impoverished neighborhoods and find ways to share resources across the church to fund ministries with the most vulnerable. As they shared about a congregation which had closed its church but maintained its manse in order to keep a pastoral presence in the community, I wondered how we could do the same in Edmonton.

Andy at Broad Street Ministry is downtown Philly echoed that emotion. "We're too focused on people who can 'afford' the gospel. Downtown churches are valuable not just for their real estate but for the work we can do with the most in need." Similar to First United in East Vancouver, BSM offers meals, postal service, support to the city's disenfranchised. Reopened in 2005, BSM is registered as a not-for-profit rather than as a church. The church is located in the arts district, close to students, artists and the LGBTQ community. Bill Golderer, BSM's founder invited this cohort to worship and a meal. They showed up, along with the homeless, troubled and mentally ill. And it works. They offer art therapy as well as support services. They worship and serve. They reach out to partners in the community. They witness to the power of showing respect and love to people who have been traumatized - be it the marginally housed, veterans suffering with PTSD, or the LGBTQ community.

As if to bring it home, the need to connect was the main theme of my conversation with Tuomi of "Partners for Sacred Places". Congregations place a lot of focus on our buildings and this is understandable. They are the carrier of our family stories. They are where we've had weddings and baptisms, been supported in times of crisis and celebrated as communities in Christ. Tuomi explained to me how our buildings also carry social value, not just for their heritage and green spaces but also their economic spinoffs. We have great spaces but now they are under utilised. We have an opportunity though to reach out to possible partners in the community who are looking for space, be it arts groups, justice groups, or groups working with youth, children or seniors. We are called to be community centres again. And the synergy created makes these partnerships a win-win.

I left Philly with much to digest. My stomach was full because I grabbed a cheesesteak on my way out. But more importantly my heart was full of possibilities for connections and community.



Small changes can net big results


My past Sunday was a two-fer, that is I visited with two London churches for their worship services. They're both United Church congregations and are growing. They're not making bread or worshipping in a bar. They're not sitting around tables with coffee or playing goth music. Just goes to show not every success is about making big changes. Instead, they have made smaller changes that are bearing fruit.

The major change that Riverside made was adding a second service, the 844. It's a pared  down, reflective, acoustic service. What struck me most about that worship though was the degree of lay leadership. Several people helped lead prayers. The reflection was broken up into a series offered by both children and adults. Everyone was very engaged. This seems to be the tone they set each week and it's paid off. People come because they enjoy the folk quality of the music and because they feel connected to G-d through each other.

Trinity has only one service but it has doubled in attendance. Again, there is shared leadership and a great sense of community. Time is taken to acknowledge birthdays and other events, to pray for specific concerns, to affirm supportive relationships. Music is a big part of this service, drawn from multiple sources - everything from Pearl Jam to praise choruses to traditional hymns.


What most struck me though was the sense of inclusion for people wherever they are at in their journey. Calling themselves the golden rule church, they have one rule - treat others as you wish to be treated. Simple but effective. The tone was set with this one statement: "No matter who you are or what you believe, you are welcome. We ask only that you believe in kindness. Here you are a partner not a project." I loved that. Not a big change in format but a profound change in attitude.

Both congregations were focused on creating communities where everyone felt affirmed, everyone felt they could contribute, everyone felt they belonged.

Not huge changes but profound just the same.

Saturday 10 October 2015

Learning to let go

There's nothing like Southern Ontario in the autumn. Amazing coloured leaves. Crisp air. Bright blue skies. A walk along the Thames River gave me a chance to process recent conversations and to listen with my heart to what Spirit is whispering.


There were two conversations in particular to work through. The first was with a friend from the Sault. I first met Jason when I was still a priest and I was accompanying a group of youth and adults to World Youth Day in Toronto. While not a Catholic, he and his wife had nevertheless offered to billet people and they welcomed me and another leader into their home. Thirteen years later here I was again, but now I am a United Church minister and he is single.

When I shared with him my journey, he was very excited. He was anxious to have a conversation about LGBTQ inclusion. He was working through the issues and trusted me as a man of faith. All seemed to go well until he dropped the usual "I want to withhold judgement but the bible clearly says..." statement. I tried to offer alternative lens with which to view the "clobber passages", especially Leviticus. It's the divine order he claimed. It's natural law. And who discerns what is the divine order, what is natural, I proffered. The good will was slowly ebbing away. I gently offered that if he really wanted to suspend judgement he needed to step back and recognize that as a heterosexual man he needed to listen more and judge less if he was really going to offer the compassion he wanted to. He countered my " check your privilege" statement with a call to recognize my own privilege, the gift of hearing him in a spirit of loving kindness. In that moment I recognized that I was judging him as much as he was judging me. I needed to be open and let go of my defensiveness. I may not agree with his theology, but I needed to see he was trying. We parted on good terms and I continued on my way to London.

While here, I visited with a UCC lay minister who has been working with a number of rural congregations and helping them to come together as one cluster. In our conversation he spoke about why he had chosen to be a designated lay minister rather than be ordained. In terms of our roles in a congregation, there are few differences. His rationale floored me. It was because of ego. He understood himself well enough to know that even though we are both called in servanthood, the tendency for ordained ministers to be put on a pedestal would be detrimental to him spiritually. The need to seek permission to offer sacraments on a call to call basis helps him keep his ego in check. Such an interesting perspective. He knew that to be a servant he needed a mechanism to help him let go of his ego. Wow.

As I walked through the woods and kicked the fallen leaves along the path, I was struck by the ongoing need for letting go. As the leaves fall to make way for new growth, so I need to let go of my own ego in order for G-d to grow in me.

The same is true for us as church. One of the reasons for our present predicament is our failure to let go of our "tried and true" approaches as the culture has changed around us. If we are going to experience new life, we will need to let go of our collective ego, listen to others with loving kindness, and be a servant rather than a judge.

At least that's what I'm thinking so far. I may need to let go of those thoughts as well.

Monday 5 October 2015

Connexional Worship



A unifying characteristic of the fresh expressions of church I visited in the UK was the commitment to being church in context. Now Trinity United Church in Thunder Bay is not technically a fresh expression because the main emphasis is not reaching out to people who have never or no longer connect with a church. And yet Rev. Randy and his congregation are doing something fresh in its truest sense. In the particular context of Northern Ontario and the unique circumstances of distance and isolation they are connecting various worshipping communities together. Using technology, those who would not be able to worship otherwise, now do so fully.

When I arrived at the church, I wasn't sure what to expect. Would there be cameras everywhere and multiple screens? Thankfully no. They would have seemed out of context in a century old stone and timber church. Rather there are small cameras unobtrusively dotted around the sanctuary and one large screen set up at the back of the chancel. In front was the communion table prepared with the elements. This was Worldwide Communion Sunday, shared between 3 congregations with only one minister.

The service began normally enough.  Apart from the projected numbers counting down behind Randy, it could have been a worship service back home. Randy offered announcements specific to Trinity while worship leaders in Nipigon and at Broadway (just outside Thunder Bay) did the same. And yet the connections they're making was also clear as Randy announced a fall supper taking place at one of the six congregations connected through live streaming (they don't all connect every week).

As the clock reached 0, a rousing organ, and a piano, began to play. We rose to sing together. I looked around and noticed that the pianist was wearing headphones.  She was playing along as the organ music was livestreamed in from one of the other churches. Then as we sat down to share the Call to Worship, it was led remotely by a leader in another of the churches. The service continued in this vein. We were experiencing what Randy illustrated in the children's time when he read just one page cut away from a picture book. Just as you need more than one page to hear the whole story, we aren't church fully unless we are in connexion with each other.


Communion reinforced this reality. As we moved forward to share in the elements, images of the other congregations were projected on the screen. We were disconnected from each other and yet we were truly together sharing at one table.

I am very glad I decided to travel to Toronto the longer way around. I may have shaved off some hours of driving through the vast forested expanse of Northern Ontario, but I would have missed an experience of church rooted in the unique context of this geography.  They had responded to their context. We all need to do the same.

From Darkness to Light

It may seem odd to recover from jet lag 14 hours drive from home, but it made sense when I planned the North American leg of my grand pilgrimage. I needed to cross 2 provinces to get to my next sabbatical stop, so why not take it abit more slowly and stop with friends at Clearwater Lake just outside The Pas, and a couple more on an acreage just outside Winnipeg. Both visits were relaxing and renewing as I reconnected with good friends over good wine and even better food.



While I was in the Winnipeg area, I decided to visit the Canadian Museum for Human Rights. It's an interesting building to look at from the outside, rising to a viewing tower in the centre. It's even more interesting when experienced from within, the architecture of the building intended to help shape the visitor's experience.


This shaping begins even before you enter the building. As you approach the doors you descend slightly between two imposing slab walls. You begin to feel a sense of oppression which continues as you enter the dark, windowless ground floor. But you are about to begin a journey out of that darkness and into light. This journey is imaged architecturally in 2 ways. First, the ramps you walk up are sided by illuminated white marble. You can see these ramps crisscrossing above you, drawing you upward on your journey. Second, each ascending level of the museum is less dark. Ironically, at first this movement into greater light architecturally is matched with a darkening of the subject matter, especially the galleries about genocide. Again, this feels intentional. You can only come into the light of knowledge by facing the darkness of human injustice and violence. Slowly, you climb out of this, encountering galleries not just about the dark chapters of our history, but also what we have done and can do to make the world a more just and humane place. At the end of your journey you can climb the tower to look out on the Winnipeg cityscape beneath the wide open Manitoba sky.

One of the interesting dynamics of the museum is that for the most part galleries are not dedicated to a particular overarching rights issue, like sexism or racism towards the black community, but rather story based vignettes about these issues. Experienced in a more diffuse manner, you experience the broader narratives as part of this movement from dark chapters to more enlightened approaches. An example is the case of Jeannette Corbiere  Lavelle, who after losing her status when she married a non-Indigenous man, brought a Supreme Court challenge to the sexism of the Indian Act. This exhibit highlights both gender and Indigenous rights.

There is an exception to this approach in terms of the galleries focused on genocide. As you come off the ramp onto the level dedicated to this topic, you pass through a section exploring the history of the Shoah (Holocaust). You can't sidestep this section, nor should you. But because other "isms" are explored more diffusely in exhibits about segregation, or the Chinese head tax, or the evolving rights of persons with disabilities, it becomes clear that an opportunity is missed in terms of facing the more comprehensive realities of Canada's  treatment of women, or the Black community, and most especially Indigenous people.

If you had to pass through an exhibit about our historical treatment of Indigenous people, as part an overarching exploration of colonialism, I'd feel more at ease. But you can choose whether or not to view the gallery about Indian Residential Schools, or Metis issues, or the experience of Inuit. As you listen to personal stories, you can opt to hear about children's rights or LGBTQ issues, and ignore Indigenous concerns. But you can't sidestep the gallery about The Shoah. As important as it is that we face that dark chapter of our history, including Canada's anti-Semitic past, it's equally imperative for us to come face to face with our historical, and ongoing, racism in regard to Indigenous people.

Unless we come face to face with our ongoing Canadian shadow, we will never reach the future vision expressed in the Tower of Hope.

Tuesday 29 September 2015

The Call to Inclusion



As I was preparing to leave the UK last Friday, I felt a certain sadness. I felt sad leaving behind both family members and new friends. I felt sad that I wouldn't be meeting more interesting people and discovering new ministries. But I also felt sad about my overall experience of the UK. I had arrived at an interesting time. It was the height of the refugee crisis and there was much talk about how best to respond. There was media coverage about what the British government should be doing, the offer of space for 20,000 people paling in comparison to the hundreds of thousands being welcomed by Germany. There were calls for people to do more but equal comments about terrorists pretending to be refugees, welfare tourists, and "too many Muslims". I also arrived during the race for the Labour leadership. The discourse was "Old Labour" versus "New Labour", the question of electability versus authenticity. Was Jeremy Corbyn too far left or was he injecting new energy into the party? There was some talk about social justice and the desire for Britain to be compassionate again, but I often felt surprised by how far right Britain has tilted in recent years.  

Now there was a sense of hope as I got ready to leave. I recalled my first weekend when I visited a Quaker meeting and a woman spoke of going to Calais to deliver clothes and toiletries to refiugees. I remembered my experience of authentic welcome at Luminous and Order of the Black Sheep, and of Tina working with the hard to house in Southport. I thought of Archbishop Justin Welby ready to offer space in Lambeth Palace for refugees. And I thought of the community Glen and I visited in our last week.

"Somewhere Else", also known as the Liverpool Bread Church, began in 1999, and was one of the communities first highlighted in "Mission Shaped Church". The Bread Church is a faith community which worships through making bread. It seems odd at first but it is an amazing experience as longtime participants  and newcomers gather around the table to make bread and create community. I was struck by how Rev. Ian and the volunteers made everyone feel welcome. One of the key principles of the Bread Church is creating a space of inclusion. It is a diverse group who comes together, with a significant number of people with cognitive challenges kneading dough beside moms with children, folks who are unemployed, and the occasional visitor from overseas. One of the ways they do this is by making the Bread Church a mobile phone free zone. The policy is there to keep people from being distracted by outside calls but I suspect it also offers a sense of safety when people know they aren't being talked about or photographed.

We need more Bread Churches and ministries like it. The gap between rich and poor seems to be increasing in the UK with much talk about being tough on people abusing welfare and a focus on needing to create a more aspirational culture. An example of that is seen in the Olympic Village that Glen and I were able to see just before we left. It was built in a part of East London that was formerly Industrial and lay empty and before the Olympics there was a lot of talk about it being a catalyst for renewal in the area. I wonder how much this has happened. We were staying near the site and it didn't seem that renewal was spilling over the railway tracks from the site to East Londoners but instead there were two worlds, with the people of the area continuing to struggle while wealthier folks move into the new apartments being built near the sports facilities and shops of Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park.

Now I have returned to Canada at the tail end of the election. As I follow media coverage I am struck that I see many of the dynamics I saw in the UK playing out here. But here I have a voice. I pray that as we cast our votes we will do so seeking a more compassionate and inclusive Canada.

Saturday 26 September 2015

Into the Woods

As I've shared since returning from the Greenbelt Festival two years ago, one of the highlights for me was the prayer and worship led by various Forest Church groups, so much so I wanted to start a group in St. Albert-Edmonton. What held me back was experiencing a Forest Church gathering in its true context. After all festival and conference activities don't always translate. This past week my hope was fulfilled as Glen and I drove to a farm outside of Llangurig, Wales to join Bruce and Sarah and Mid Wales Forest Church.

It was simple but profound. We began by going for a walk in the hills, and because we were reflecting together on Autumn were invited to find a natural item that spoke to each of us personally. We took time to share with each other and then walked further and took time reflecting on the call to be in balance as we lay down under a grove of conifers.


I was caught up by the sense of deep connection as I looked up at the web of branches. I knew I was being invited to further simplify my life as Bruce invited us to ponder what helped us maintain balance as well as what threw us out of balance.


We returned to the farm to share food and drink, including teas brewed from local herbs and medicines. The magic of the Welsh evening was made complete as a few people brought out fiddles and mandolins while we chatted about finally starting a group back home.


Our Forest Church experience was rounded out as Glen and I visited with Simon and Allie, two leaders of Ancient Arden Forest Church. They live in a bit more urban environment but still gather outdoors to pray and reflect together. Their group is more ritually based as they draw on older rhythms of the Celtic calendar. They spoke passionately of how reconnecting to G-d in nature was keeping them grounded. Their group was also a place of nurture for Christians who had left church but still wanted to honour Christ, as well as people who were walking the pagan road. They were creating a profound interfaith space.

I was struck by the simplicity of both groups, each honouring G-d in nature in different ways but knowing that doing so was a lifeline of spiritual sanity in a world so disconnected from creation. Sharing this with Glen was very meaningful as we both pondered what it would take to start Sturgeon Valley Forest Church. Anyone interested in joining us?

Saturday 19 September 2015

Life lessons...





This past week saw me returning to England for a couple of days with Mark and Sarah of Order of the Black Sheep then back to Scotland to meet up with Glen and journey north to the Orkney Islands. Surprisingly, both journeys brought valuable lessons about life and church.
Having experienced an OBS worship service at the Greenbelt Festival two years ago, I was intent on spending time with Mark and Sarah to learn what I could. I shifted my schedule to make sure I could attend. I wasn't disappointed. Mark and Sarah were welcoming. The service was relaxed, many people simply lounging on black bean bag chairs. The prayers were rooted in the context of the younger adults who were present, some from the alternative community but equally not. Being a black sheep means different things to different people. The sense of welcome in the midst of uncertainty and doubt is what keeps some coming. The inclusiveness and non-churchy vibe is what draws others. The willingness to engage people where they are at is a touchstone for others - including parents with children.

This is the part of OBS that surprised Mark the most as the community has evolved. Before becoming a vicar, Mark was a musician with a heavy metal band. The ministry was initially formed with teens and adults connected to that scene but over time it has morphed from one thing into another. Mark and Sarah are willing to try one thing and if it fails to try something else. I think OBS works because they are willing to learn from their mistakes. In the process they have created a space where families feel welcome, not because it's a family focused ministry but because it's a people where they're at focused ministry.

This is what connects this experience to the Orkney Islands for me. I wanted to go to the Orkney Islands because they are known for the high concentration of Neolithic sites like the Standing Stones of Stennness and the village of Skara Brae. What I didn't know was that amongst these sites there were also Pictish, Viking and Medieval Scots ruins as well, often at the same places. Over time in this archipelago one culture has been integrated into another rather than one displacing another. As climate changed or new political circumstances arose the people adapted. You hear it in the accent as people speak with a Norse as much as a Scottish accent. They are quick to tell you they are Orcadians, proud to have thrived in a remote and harsh environment.

This adaptability is captured by two contemporary sites beside each other on Lambholm, a small island linked to the "Mainland" by a causeway. The first is the Italian Chapel, built by Italian POWs interned in Orkney during the Second World War. Missing home, they asked if they could have a chapel for services. What they did with the space is extraordinary. They sourced all the materials themselves, turning two quonset style buildings into a work of art. When I walked in I thought the walls were tiled. Everything is plaster or cement, painted to look like tile, wood, marble, and the like. They used what they had a created a masterpiece.

Equally impressive is the Orkney Wine Company housed right next door. No grapes grow at 58° latitude, but blueberries, rhubarb, cranberries, etc. certainly do. They are making amazing fruit wines. They even make Tattie Wine - wine from potatoes. It's quite good with a slight whiskey finish.

What did I learn about life and church from these experiences? The importance of resilience. When changes come you can moan and fret, or you can try new things, adapting as necessary. In a time of change as a church we need to be willing to experiment as needed. We may not always succeed but we just may create something amazing in the process.

Saturday 12 September 2015

Following the Coastal Path

When I was planning my sabbatical, several colleagues reminded me that my time away was to be rest and renewal as much as research and reflection. When the plans for this past week unravelled, my first instinct was to find alternate study options, but then settled on extending my visit with my aunt in Scotland. It meant a long trip to Sheffield for a presentation at the Wilson Carlile Centre (I spent more time on the train than at the Centre.) but it was worth it.
I decided to follow the Fife Coastal Path beginning at Kinghorn and heading west toward the Forth Rail and Road bridges. Ambitiously I pondered walking all the way back to my aunt's but that would have been 30 km. As it was, I walked all the way to Inverkeithing for a total of 20 km.
It was a glorious day and for once warm enough for me to don my shorts. The journey from Kinghorn to Burntisland was rugged as I walked along the rocky and sandy shoreline.

Burntisland was a bit more frustrating. I checked the map on the post board to see where to pick up the next section. I thought it would be clearly marked. There were long distances between route indicators and I would have expected additional posts saying to carry on. Instead they were only present if you needed to change direction. I was viewing it as a Canadian but needed to see it through a Scottish logic. When I finally did it became easier. I started to worry that I may not find the next bit when along came someone walking her dog. She pointed me in the right direction. A few more times along the route someone came along when I needed to get my bearings.Burntisland was a bit more frustrating. I checked the map on the post board to see where to pick up the next section. I thought it would be clearly marked. There were long distances between route indicators and I would have expected additional posts saying to carry on. Instead they were only present if you needed to change direction. I was viewing it as a Canadian but needed to see it through a Scottish logic. When I finally did it became easier. I started to worry that I may not find the next bit when along came someone walking her dog. She pointed me in the right direction. A few more times along the route someone came along when I needed to get my bearings.


The experience was a gentle reminder about fresh expressions. First, these new types of faith community are ideally to be rooted in a (sub)cultural context. They begin with intentional listening and relationship building. Only when you have taken time to live into a context, to be with people and listen to the needs of the area, will you be able to understand the signposts and discern way to walk. Second, you can't create a new church expression without engaging with people as potential leaders. In my reading I saw references to finding "people of peace" - local people who are open to hearing the gospel. Speaking the "language" of the focus group, these people become translators of the message. Without them you may never find the way to your destination.

As part of my time in Sheffield, I had the opportunity to meet with George Lings, chief researcher with Church Army for fresh expressions. He offered some good advice regarding the emergence of new faith communities in Canada. As we shared about the importance of not simply starting alternative worship services but forming truly contextualized communities, he spoke of the need to be bicultural. Thinking about our history in evangelizing, he pointed to people like St. Paul and St. Columba, Vincent Donovan and Leslie Newbiggin, people who though raised in one culture, were open to the culture of the people being evangelized. They were able to express the message in new ways rather than impose culturally fixed forms of Christianity like we did in the 18th to 20th centuries. In thus century, we're being offered a chance to reclaim an older wisdom and begin to follow the way of Jesus in culturally open ways.


Along my way, I saw an old church. St. Bridget's Chapel had fallen out of use when the travel route to Edinburgh changed and people no longer frequented the area. The ways people travel have changed. We can bemoan that people have stopped travelling to our area and slowly fall into ruin, or we can move to the new route and find new ways to express timeless truths.

I'm voting for the latter.