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Posts from the ‘Pastoral Ministry’ Category

“Is Your Eye Evil Because I Am Good?”

I’ve written before about how Jesus’ parables sound different at different stages of one’s life. The story of the lost son, for example, is a story that seems to contain almost the whole of human failure and frustration, hope and longing, love, and desire. I have at various points in my life identified with the recklessly destructive younger son, the self-righteous older brother, and the heartsick father. I doubt I’m terribly unique in this. The story sounds different at forty-eight than it did at twenty-two. It’s the kind of story that can keep one company for a lifetime, opening new truths, unlocking new understandings, making sense of some of the terrain covered along the way. Read more

On Manifesting

I hope you all enjoyed the holiday season and are manifesting a life giving 2024 for you and your loved ones. 

So began an email that I received this morning. Which, I confess, kind of put me in a bad mood. What kind of an idiotic greeting…?! I spluttered in my brain. Whatever I was “manifesting” at the moment, it would likely not have been very life-giving for myself or for my loved ones. Hopefully nobody was within the blast radius of whatever corner of the universe my thoughts were commandeering at that moment. Read more

To Bow Down and Scream

I recently sat with someone who was dying. Yes, I know we’re all dying, but in this particular person’s case, death had moved from the category of “abstraction” to “unavoidable reality.” Which is always a difficult movement, and one with no small amount of anguish attached to it. This suffering is not unto death. So said Jesus about Lazarus’s predicament to Mary and Martha, at least in his majesty King James’ version of the gospel of John. But so much suffering is. Unto death, that is. Or, at the very least, a reminder that it’s coming. Read more

A Soul’s Worth

Last year around this time, I wrote a short piece on my first Christmas at the jail, about how Christmas carols sound different surrounded by plastic and concrete than they do in candle-lit church sanctuaries, about how lines like “And you, beneath life’s crushing load, whose forms are bending low” or “For sinners here, the silent Word is pleading” seem somehow more urgent or pressing or something here. The familiar words come crashing into the ugliness of the human condition from out there in “abstract theology land” with startling force. Read more

What if There Isn’t Room in My Heart?

I clicked on the headline somewhat unthinkingly (as I too often do). “The forgotten war in Syria.” It’s a place and a people that has a unique place in my heart given our church’s efforts to sponsor refugees during the Syrian refugee crisis, given the number of words that I wrote and spoke around that time advocating for a compassionate response, given the Syrian men, women, and children that I have come to know in our city over the last eight years or so. I had done a recent presentation on our church’s response to the Syrian crisis at a conference a few weeks ago, so I suppose that contributed to my reasons for clicking the link. But mostly I clicked because the war in Syria had receded into the shadows of my heart and mind and I probably felt like it shouldn’t have. Read more

Disneyland

I had barely walked through the door of my office at the jail when a guard showed up. “There’s an inmate who’s been trying to get a hold of a chaplain since Saturday. His kid is in on life support at the hospital. He wants to talk to someone. We suggested “Health Care,” but he wasn’t interested, so…” I gulped. Said I would “take care of it,” whatever that could possibly mean. I leafed quickly through some of the requests that had trickled in over the weekend and noticed two from this poor guy. I’ll call him Terry. Could someone please come see me… pray for me… pray for my son? My heart heaved a little. Read more

All Are Welcome?

“So, I’m getting out tomorrow… and, well, I think I’d like to stay connected, or, you know, kinda figure I need to stay with church and stuff… I dunno, do you have any advice or suggestions?” The guy sitting across from me in bleak, concrete interview room at the jail struggled to make eye contact, shifted around constantly. He had a cut over his eye and had limped noticeably as he walked into the room. He had been semi-regular in my bible studies over the last year or so. He rarely said much, but when he did it was measured and thoughtful. I told him I was happy to hear that he was getting out. He didn’t seem as happy for himself as I was for him. Read more

Forgive Me, For I Have Sinned

So, a struggling young actor and a middle-aged pastor walk into a bar… What sounds like a setup for a lame joke was in fact how I spent part of an afternoon a few weekends ago in the Rocky Mountains. My wife was attending some meetings for a board she sits on, and I was tagging along for a few days before we continued further west for a holiday on the BC coast. The actor was there with his fiancé who was also attending the meetings. As we both had nothing to do one afternoon, we found ourselves meandering around town before parking ourselves in the glorious autumn sunshine on a patio pub. Read more

Men Without Fingers

I’ll never forget the first time it happened. One of my tasks at the jail is to connect with inmates seeking one-on-one meetings. Sometimes these are people who won’t (or can’t) come to the regular chapels, so I’ve never met them before. When I introduce myself, I always try to very deliberately make eye contact, refer to them by name, and shake their hands. So much of life in jail is impersonal and dehumanizing. Any little gesture to counter this feels worth it to me. And so, I was very consciously looking this man in the eye when we shook hands. But something felt off. I looked down and was shocked to discover that he only had two out of ten fingers. I was shaking a palm and a few stumps. Read more

The Church, the Pub, and the Coming Backlash

One of the things on my to-do list over the next little while is to get cracking on editing/rewriting the history of our church. This year marks our forty-fifth year in existence, and it’s been a few decades since the “official” story was modified in any way. So, a few of us have been tasked with a refresh of sorts. Yesterday, in an email exchange with one of my co-labourers on this project, the topic turned to what we might highlight from the last twenty years or so. Suggestions included some usual suspects: programs, initiatives, projects supported, pastoral transitions, etc. And then one line in a list of bullet point suggestions whose theme always makes my heart sink a little: “Change in demographics of our church (decrease in membership, fewer children and young families).” Ah, yes. Decline. Read more

Friday Miscellany

A few stray threads to pick at as another week winds down…

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I spent the August long weekend with a few long-time friends in Seattle. Guys always need a reason beyond just getting together to get together, and in this case, it was a concert. Greta Van Fleet was in town and this seemed like a pretty good excuse to make the trek. I’m likely a bigger fan than a few of the other guys, but I think everyone enjoyed the spectacle. Read more

Out of Season

I checked my phone immediately after worship on Sunday. I don’t bring my phone into the sanctuary. It stays in my study in “Do Not Disturb” mode. But my watch had been vibrating persistently during prayers of the people (evidently an exception to “Do Not Disturb” is made for multiple calls from the same number, which is wise, I suppose—emergencies and all). At any rate, I was quick to have a look once the benediction was pronounced. Read more

“Heartbreak Can Be the Engine of Obliteration or Growth”

I read Nick Cave’s latest edition of the Red Hand Files before heading off to the jail yesterday. Zack, from Leeds, UK was wondering if Cave had any advice about how to deal with his father’s stroke and the sudden responsibility this had thrust upon him. Zack was used to living what was, by his own description, a fairly self-absorbed life. Now his family was looking to him for strength and guidance. He was struggling to cope, feeling emotionally drained and on the point of implosion. Did Cave have any advice? Read more

On Wisdom and Desperation

“I have learned, over time, to accept what I cannot change.” The words came from an older friend over breakfast recently. These were not trivial words, I knew. This person has endured significant physical trauma—the kind of thing that irreversibly changes a life, the kind of wound that never fully heals. This was no treacly aphorism, no self-congratulatory internet meme. This was the real deal. Read more

The Hawk is an Omen of War

There was a hawk perched on top of the church sign when I drove up early Sunday morning to prepare for worship. My first thought was, “oh, cool, a hawk.” And I dutifully took out my phone to take a picture. A closer inspection, however, yielded a less photogenic image than I had hoped. There was a long stringy thread of entrails—maybe a quarter meter or so?—hanging from the hawk’s talons, swinging in front of the sign, perilously close to the words “Pastor Ryan Dueck.” I pondered the potential trauma of that sight for an unsuspecting churchgoer as they rounded the corner looking for some Sunday morning inspiration. Read more

God and the Devil are at War

“Can I ask a question before we even start today?” It was Monday afternoon and there were around fifteen of us sitting in a circle on plastic chairs in an airless prison chapel with bad lighting. The question came from a young man who I’ve enjoyed getting to know over the last few months. He’s thoughtful, deliberate in his speech, deeply serious (alarmingly so, at times). When he speaks, people listen. “Yeah, of course,” I replied. “What’s your question?” He furrowed his brow, took a breath, and said, “What’s the point of being good?” Well, that’s the kind of question that can uncork an opinion or two. Read more

An Act of (Active) Love

Something I’ve learned over a decade and a half of pastoral ministry, is that people interpret and cope with their suffering in very different and very personal ways. Some cannot tolerate the idea that God could play any causal role whatsoever in their pain. God is their co-sufferer, labouring to bring goodness out evil, redemption out of brokenness. God is the salve, not the source. Others, take refuge in a highly specific and highly personal conception of God’s role in orchestrating the events of this world. Their torments come directly from the hand of a meticulously sovereign God whose will, while sometimes inscrutable, is always done. And then there are others—most of us, I suspect—who find ourselves somewhere between these two poles. Read more

Hold On, Judas

Judas was on the agenda at the jail this week. We’ve been working our way through John’s gospel over the past few months, paying special attention to Jesus’ encounters with real people. We’ve been trying to locate ourselves in these stories and to see what they might teach us about ourselves and about God. We’ve looked at Nicodemus, the Samaritan woman at the well, the woman caught in adultery, the blind beggar, Lazarus, etc. Good stories, each one, and not too difficult to locate ourselves in these characters. But Judas? Well, Judas is a different animal. Especially at the jail. Read more