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Posts from the ‘Faith’ Category

On Passive Nihilism

I was sitting on my front porch reading the other day. It was late afternoon/early evening. A nondescript car buzzed past, did quick u-turn and came to an abrupt stop in front of a house across the street. A young man ran out of his car, dropped a small parcel on the door, took a photo, then buzzed off. Ten minutes later, another unmarked vehicle did the same. Package, photo, gone. Half an hour later an Amazon van screeched and lurched down our street stopping first at one side then the other. No fewer than three stops in one small town block. Including the house across the street which was now up to three deliveries in less than one hour. Read more

Plans

I’ve been a pretty big fan of The Killers and their frontman Brandon Flowers for at least the last two decades or so. I love all their albums (if in different ways) and I’m a big fan of both of Flowers’ solo projects. I’ve seen The Killers live once and it would rank near the top of all the concerts I’ve ever attended. I grew up in the era of big stadium rock bands and in many ways I’ve never really left it. A nostalgic middle-aged cliche in so many ways, I know. Although the other day while watching a World Cup match I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of a couple of kids who couldn’t have been much older than ten gleefully belting out the lyrics to Mr. Brightside. My heart was happy.

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The Results Business

I recently made my way out to one of the units at the jail to deliver a few items that had been requested by inmates. Bibles, writing paper, calendars, devotionals, bible study courses—each must be documented, labeled with a name and a number, and then placed on the window sill at the bubble so the guys can see when there’s something for them. On my most recent trip, one of the guards noticed a name on one of the packages I was putting out which contained a bible study course. He snorted. “That guy’s not here any more. Down in the hole. Guess you were a few days too late with that stuff!” I smiled. Picked up my materials. “Yeah. I guess I was.” Read more

On Being Forgotten

Someone recently asked me why I haven’t sought to be more influential, as a pastor, a writer, a leader. Don’t you want to lead a larger church or write a book or build a following online? There’s a ministry trajectory, I suppose, at least according to some. Pastoring a small church and writing in a relatively small corner of the internet for the better part of two decades isn’t it. I instantly clicked into self-defence mode, reaching for justifications explanations ranging from the biblical (Jesus’ words about mustard seeds, etc) to the dispositional (I’m not a natural leader or social catalyst, don’t crave the mic, etc) with a bunch of other stops in between. The words felt limp coming out of my mouth.

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Mud People

In his new book Liturgies of the Wild, Martin Shaw writes of growing up with a preacher for a father and of a house that “reverberated with whatever sermon he was currently coaxing into life.” I liked that phrase, “coaxing into life.” Boy, does it resonate most weeks for me. Shaw also talks about being fascinated by the opening pages of the big book his dad was always preaching about, in particular this sentence: “The Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.” “I liked it,” Shaw says. “It was weird.” Read more

At Just the Right Time

“That’s it?”

He looks at me with a mixture of incredulity and suspicion across a grungy table in a glorified storage closet at the jail. The setting, even given the context, is unimpressive. A broken vacuum cleaner. A bunch of haphazard toilet paper rolls. Some dust-covered supplies from the pandemic era. A couple plastic chairs. On the other side of the door, the buzzing and clanging and crashing and shouting that is the near-constant soundtrack out on the remand units. Read more

Sectored to Grace

On Saturday night, I attended The Great Vigil of Easter at an Anglican church in our city. It was a beautiful liturgy, leading worshipers through the broad sweep of Scripture, from creation to new creation. There were candles and holy water, Dante and Herbert, a baptism and the renewal of baptismal vows, the gradual physical transformation of the sanctuary from the bleak deathly tones of Good Friday to the light and the life of resurrection. And there was the celebration of the Eucharist, of course. We remembered Christ’s death, proclaimed his resurrection, and strengthened our resolve to await his coming in glory. Read more

Haunted (Whispers in a Ruined House)

He looks at me warily as he approaches the guard’s station at the jail. He’s thirty-something, huge beard, menacing tattoos snaking up and around his neck and bald head. I stand there, inoffensively, with my clipboard and my death notification. “I’m a chaplain here, just wondering if you’d like to talk to someone about losing your dad?” I motion over to the interview room over in the corner of the unit and start to walk in that direction. His expression doesn’t change. “Not really,” says. He follows me anyway. Read more

Tuesday Miscellany (On Weakness and Strength)

Nick Cave’s Red Hand Files are always a welcome sight when they show up in my inbox. I don’t always agree or resonate with his responses to queries from his fans, but they are almost invariably interesting. Today, for example, Cave responds briefly (often only a word or a sentence) to a wide range of questions from around the world. Naturally, I am always drawn to the ones that have to do with faith. Two fans were fairly disgusted with Cave’s, for lack of a better term, “religious turn” in the latter part of his career. One American fan wondered how anyone with “half a brain would believe in God.” Another, JL from Canada, queried, “Is religion not the refuge of the weak?” Cave responded thus:

Yes, JL, it is precisely that. Christianity in particular.

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In Pain

There is nothing more ordinary than suffering.

There is nothing more extraordinary than suffering.

Both of these statements are true.

The last few months have been characterized by a number of people that I know and love enduring significant pain. Sometimes the pain is physical, sometimes it is relational, sometimes it is existential. Sometimes it is all the above. Always, it is excruciating to watch people suffer. Read more

“We Cannot Wait Till the World is Sane”

We read the Christmas story out at the jail yesterday. Matthew’s version, all the way through. We read about Mary and Joseph angelic visitations and prophecies fulfilled and Magi from the east bearing strange gifts. We read about a mad king’s maniacal decree, about the slaughter of innocent baby boys, about the Holy Child of Bethlehem being hunted from the day he was born. I had taped images from William Kurelek’s A Northern Nativity on the wall throughout the chapel and invited the guys wander around looking at them while I read. I wanted the Nativity to somehow migrate from words on a page or sanitized religious images to their world, to them, to us. Read more

To Not Feel Lost in the World

A friend recently directed my attention to an episode of CBC’s The Current where the subject matter was Gen Z’s return to Christianity. Many are noticing that the kids are coming back to church. At least some of them. We’re not exactly talking a tidal wave here, but certainly a steady trickle. What on earth is going on, the venerable CBC wanted to know? Read more

Climbing Toward Love

Today, incredibly, my wife Naomi and I have been married for thirty years. This is a number that fits awkwardly with my subjective experience of myself and our relationship. In my mind, we are still love-struck twenty-somethings with our whole future in front of us. The odometer, weirdly, tells a different tale. Read more

Wednesday Miscellany: On Sex and Transcendence

Whenever a topic or cluster of topics keep showing up in different areas of my life and ministry, I eventually decide it’s worth paying attention to and, if possible, try to write something about it. When I can’t quite seem to come up with a solid piece of unified writing, I default to a “Miscellany” post. So, what follows is not necessarily a coherent argument, just a few short reflections and observations picked up over the last little while. Read more

Forty Chickens

Hope builds a bridge across the abyss into which reason cannot look. It can hear an undertone to which reason is deaf. Reason does not recognize the signs of what is coming, what is not yet born.

Byung-Chul Han, The Spirit of Hope

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We were talking about hope out at the jail yesterday. A few guys had shared about how they desperately needed hope, to believe that there could be something different in their future, something besides the same old habits, the endless tired returning to the same endlessly tired dead-ends. One guy looked up with a half-grin that was somewhere between cynical, mischievous, and dejected. “I don’t got no hope anymore. I stole forty chickens and there’s no future for me.” Read more

Take a Swing for Jesus (Straining a Metaphor)

Most Canadians are laser-focused on the Toronto Blue Jays these days. And understandably so. They Jays are on quite a run, and they are an easy team to like. I’ve never been a huge baseball fan, but even I am enjoying watching them give the gazillionaire Dodgers all they can handle. When the Jays aren’t on, though, I’ve been keeping an eye on the Rolex Paris Masters, the world’s biggest indoor tennis tournament (here, too, a Canadian is doing well—Felix Auger-Aliassime is into the quarterfinals). Tennis is a sport that I’ve come to really enjoy in the last five years or so, both the viewing and the playing. And it’s given me a new window into some aspects of the Christian life. Read more

The Faith that Makes Well

The gospel reading for this past Sunday (Thanksgiving Sunday, here in Canada) was Luke 17:11-19. In it, Jesus heals ten lepers who cry out to him for mercy. Only one returns to give thanks (a Samaritan), and Jesus commends him for it. Connections between lectionary texts and the secular calendar don’t really come much more obvious than this, I suppose. Don’t be like the nine ungrateful lepers who pranced off into their more hopeful futures with scarcely a thought for their Healer. Be like the Samaritan. Make sure you give thanks because this makes Jesus happy. Read more

In the Name of Jesus

I had never heard of Charlie Kirk before yesterday. But his assassination is, of course, front page news everywhere today. Another disgusting tragedy, another spasm of violence in culture addicted to violence, another casualty of a toxic political culture and a diseased discursive climate, another outrage to dominate and be weaponized by social media before we collectively yawn and move on to the next outrage. It all feels so utterly wearisome and predictable and inevitable in our fractious, polarized, and distractible times. Read more