The Progressive Reverend

There’s something sacred about spring rain. Not the flash storms or the icy drizzle of late winter, but the soft, steady kind that falls like a benediction—quiet, cleansing, persistent. The kind that turns the sidewalks into mirrors and the earth into a sponge. The kind that whispers, “Slow down.” And so I do. Or at least, I try. Because one of my favourite things to do is walk my dog. She, however, has other ideas about “slowing down.” If you've met her, you know. She’s a vision—I call her a bull in a china shop. There is nothing graceful about her except her fluffy white and grey fur. People often remark about how amazingly white her fur is—until it rains. Or, more accurately, after it rains. Because then, her favourite pastime is transforming into a high-speed bull charging her way through the bushes.  After a gentle spring shower yesterday, I thought: Now it’s safe. The sun peeked out. The ground looked... well, not dry, but dry- ish . I clipped on her leash with cautious opti...

  Lent has this way of slowing us down, pulling us toward the questions we might otherwise rush past. And this year, I find myself circling around one in particular: What do we do with suffering? Christians are called to care for those who suffer, to bind up wounds and sit in the ashes with the brokenhearted. But there’s something more to it—something that the theology of suffering asks of us. It suggests that we cannot truly walk alongside those in pain unless we have known pain ourselves. It’s not just an intellectual exercise. It’s lived. Now, let’s be clear: I do not believe that God causes suffering. And most who study the theology of suffering would agree. God is good. All the time. He is not in the business of dealing with pain like some divine bureaucrat. God is the very definition of goodness, incapable of anything less than love. But—and here’s the part that’s harder to swallow—God does not always take suffering away. Instead, God makes a way through it. He is present in ...

The summer I was 12 was strange. My parents had both started new jobs, so our typical summer living in the tiny Boler was off the table. There was no vacation time. My sister and I were stuck at home. We spent our days sleeping in, riding our bikes to get slushies at the Mac store, and watching   Days of Our Lives . Our monotonous summer quickly became exciting as we immersed ourselves in the saga. Kayla, who was deaf at the time due to a mysterious illness, was kidnapped by Harper Deveraux and held captive in a secret room. Steve and his brother Jack Deveraux tried desperately to rescue her. Eve, a former teenage prostitute, continued to struggle with her complicated life, while Bo and Hope were still dealing with various romantic and adventure-driven challenges, as they were one of the show's prominent super couples at the time. The storyline was constantly evolving; nothing was off the table or too far-fetched. This past week feels reminiscent of th...