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Church Vitality Redefined

There is a quiet kind of grief moving through the church right now. Not dramatic grief. Not headline grief. Just the slow ache of watching pews thin out, budgets tighten, and wondering what the future of the church will look like twenty years from now. Many church leaders carry that worry quietly. I know I do. This week I read an article by former moderator Carmen Lansdowne about a small church in British Columbia. It was not a story about explosive growth or some brilliant strategy to save organized religion. It was simply a story about a church that was alive. And honestly, I have not stopped thinking about it. Because I absolutely want the church to grow. I want more people to discover community and purpose. I want children and youth filling our spaces again. I want people who feel disconnected, exhausted, lonely, or spiritually adrift to find something real inside church walls. I want more for the church than simply surviving. But the article reminded me that growth and aliveness a...
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The People Standing Alone at Coffee Time

The other day, after church, I overheard one family inviting another family, who had been absent for quite a while, to their house for lunch. Honestly, my heart skipped a beat. What a simple and beautiful way of saying: “We noticed you were gone.” “We’re glad you’re back.” “You matter to us.” And it made me think about what people are truly looking for when they come to church. I think many people are searching for a connection. For spaces where they feel noticed instead of invisible. At the same time, I found myself thinking about the people who are new to church. Visitors, friends, relatives, family members, new immigrants, those who come alone, and those whose first language is not English.  The ones brave enough to stay for coffee after worship, but who quietly stand at the edge of the room while the rest of us naturally drift toward people we already know. And to be honest, I think there is an important difference between being a friendly church and being a connected church. M...
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What Makes Church Feel Alive?

What Makes Church Feel Alive? I have been thinking a lot lately about worship. Not theology in the abstract. Not church decline. Just a simple question: What do people actually need from church now? What helps someone walk into a sanctuary carrying stress, grief, loneliness, exhaustion, or uncertainty… and leave feeling lighter, calmer, more hopeful, or more connected? What makes worship meaningful? Because churches seem to be wrestling with this everywhere. Some churches use lights, smoke, bands, giant screens, and high-energy music. Others lean into candles, silence, ritual, and quiet reflection. Some people find God in loud music and energy. Others find God in stillness. Some people long for creativity and surprise. Others long for peace and familiarity. And honestly, I don’t think there is one right answer. But I do think there are important questions worth asking. What helps people feel connected to the Spirit? What creates a sense of sacredness now? Is it beauty? Music? Silence? ...
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In a Lonely World, We Need Each Other

There is something sacred about gathering. Not because the music is perfect. Not because the sermon changes your life every week. Not because church people always get it right. But because, in a world pulling us in a thousand directions, gathering reminds us who we are. Some Sundays, if we are honest, it is easier to stay home. The laundry is waiting. Kids have sports. The week has been long. The weather in Calgary can make staying under a blanket feel almost holy. Life is full. Busy. Loud. Exhausting. And yet. There is a quiet kind of healing that happens when people choose to show up together. Research continues to show what many people of faith have always known deep in their bones: communities of spiritual practice help people feel less isolated, more hopeful, and more resilient. People who participate in faith communities often report stronger emotional well-being, deeper social connections, and a greater sense of meaning and purpose. In a world where loneliness has quietl...
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Who Is Our Community?

I have been thinking a lot about community lately. Not the abstract kind. Not the polished kind we put in mission statements. The real kind. The kind that smells like fried fish and sea air. The kind where children play across the street, goats wander nearby, stray dogs circle hopefully, and people gather because this is just where people gather. While we were in St. Vincent, we visited a small local restaurant. The kind of place where people don’t really sit inside, so the inside becomes a mix of restaurant and storage. A couple of tables on the porch. A few picnic tables in the parking lot. The menu was simple: catch of the day or blackfish, served with provisions. And yet, there it was. Community. At one table sat about eight women of different ages. One of them asked me how I was and seemed to actually want to know. Not the polite kind of question. The kind where your answer matters. Nearby, another group gathered around a picnic table, drinking beer, talking, laughing, eating, enj...
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The Ocean Is Not Quiet… We Just Don’t Always Listen

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I came home with salt still on my skin and something I can’t quite name sitting with me. For two weeks, life slowed down. Morning didn’t rush me. No schedule chasing me out the door. Just light coming through the window and the ocean, always there. I swam every day. In Indian Bay . The kind of water that makes you forget what time it is. The kind that holds you without asking anything in return. It felt… good. Simple in a way that makes you wonder what we’ve done to our lives back home. And it’s beautiful there. It really is. But there’s something else. Because there were no fish. Or almost none. I kept waiting for that flicker of movement, that quick flash of colour. But mostly it was just… quiet. The reef didn’t feel alive. It felt tired. Like something that had been through too much and didn’t have the strength to show it anymore. And I don’t know what to do with that. Part of me wants to explain it. To make sense of it quickly. There’s no recycling. Garbage...
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Easter Hope and Renewal

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It has been a long year already. And we are only three months in. There has been too much loss for such a short stretch of time. Too many goodbyes. Too many quiet moments where grief sits heavy in the room, like a guest who will not leave. Even the season has seemed to echo it, winter lingering, snow refusing to melt, the earth still held tight in cold hands when we are so ready for warmth. Some years feel like this. Like everything is holding its breath. And yet… here comes Easter. Not politely. Not timidly. But stubbornly. Hopeful in a way that almost feels defiant. The story of Jesus Christ does not pretend that death isn’t real. It does not rush past the sorrow or tie it up neatly. It lingers at the tomb. It allows the silence. It lets the grief speak its full truth. And then, without warning, without explanation that satisfies the mind, something shifts. Life. Not as a return to what was. But as something new. Something transformed. Something that says, quietly but un...
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