steve

So it’s Holy Week, the long walk to the cross begins. I know Holy Week is a key time for us to consider just who the person of Jesus, and thus the character of God, truly is. And let me tell you, I am so grateful for that. The cross, first off, speaks of Jesus’ profound mercy and compassion, while the Resurrection boldly proclaims his power over all things – including Death itself. It’s such a beautiful story. Yet, Holy Week also reminds us that this is a story with real-world stakes. A story about how our theology and beliefs and convictions, when wielded carelessly or self-righteously, can crush the very people it claims to save.

There’s no shortage of things to get us down these days—and with good reason.
I feel like I keep coming back to this write-up schtick every week, but alas. You know the routine: we’re bombarded with headlines that range from unsettling to downright frustrating and discouraging. South of the border, political action surrounding immigrants and tariffs continues to cause jaws to drop on the daily, and that noise has spilled across the border and into our social media feeds and our own political landscape as we near a federal election with bated breath. Global tensions seem to be mounting, with wars and conflicts reminding us how fragile peace can be. The ongoing war in Ukraine, now stretching into its third year, is one of those heart-wrenching reminders. Thousands have lost their homes, their loved ones, their sense of safety. The despair is real and pressing in more each day.

And yet—this week, I saw something that changed the air around me.

I don’t know about you but the last few weeks of Sunday morning teachings have been received as a bit of a punch in the gut. This idea of moving from admiring Jesus to the seemingly impossible task of following him – even to death. And then last week, we leaned into a truth that’s as challenging as it is liberating: the cross doesn’t invite our applause—it demands our participation. The way to bending our knee to such radical participation is only through the hard road of discipleship and taking those moments of life to act as catalysts toward our transformation.

For those of you who maybe don’t read the full newsletter to the bottom each week (or haven’t looked at the back of your bulletins on Sunday morns 😂!), you may have missed that over the past month or so we’ve been adding a section called “Prayer Pointers.” This space is for us to use as a springboard in growing a spiritual habit of prayer as a community by providing some reflections on prayer from the scriptures (or notable Christian) and then ending with a prayer for you to pray this week. You’re encouraged to use it as you will. This week I’ve decided to kill two birds with one stone and am using the space where I usually write a little blurb to simply be the prayer pointer for us. 

I trust you’re having a good week and a meaningful Lenten season… for those who are actively observing it. I’m going to be honest with you – this year’s Lent, for me, has so far been a bust. I find myself struggling to connect with the season’s depth and purpose. And I know this is probably not a good confession for a pastor to make, but, it’s real. Typically, Lent is a time for reflection, repentance, and renewal—a period where we draw nearer to God as we prepare our hearts for the mystery of Easter, the centre of our Christian calendar. Yet if I’m being totally honest, this year, that closeness feels… elusive at best.​

Maybe I’m just getting old but time sure seems to be moving fast these days. My wife reminded me that this week marks the five-year anniversary of COVID being declared a global emergency. Five years! Remember trying to figure out what 6′ looked like for social distancing? Or the panic-buying of toilet paper? How we all got into baking sourdough bread like we were auditioning for a baking show and learned (some of us STILL learning) how to unmute ourselves on Zoom. Those were wild and unpredictable days. No one knew from one day to the next what the next new thing to be flung at us would look like.
But then something happened.