The Progressive Reverend

I need to start with an apology if my reflections have felt heavy lately. It’s not because I want to stay stuck in the heaviness; it’s because that's where my heart has been these days. And honestly, I think part of following Jesus is learning to sit with what’s hard, not to wallow in it, but to let it change us, soften us, wake us up to what really matters. What has been weighing on me is how much fear appears to be shaping the world around us. Maybe you feel it too. It’s there in the headlines, in conversations, and in the quiet corners of our communities, this growing sense that difference is dangerous, that some people don’t belong, and that love should have limits. When I see newcomers struggling to build a life here, or refugees being spoken about as if they’re a problem to solve rather than people to cherish, my heart aches. And when I hear Indigenous friends and neighbours say they’re still fighting to be heard, still waiting for justice, still asking for something as basic...

I’ve been thinking a lot about why we need church at all in a world so consumed by media. Our kids are surrounded by screens, algorithms, and stories that scroll past faster than they can blink. TikTok trends dictate who to be this week, Marvel heroes reveal who gets to save the day, and headlines remind them of a world on fire—climate crisis, wars, and injustice. With so many voices shouting for their attention, it can feel almost impossible to know what truly grounds them. That’s why we need church. Not as another noise in the mix, but as a counter-story. A place that is slower, rooted, real. A place where ancient songs and old stories still hold wisdom, where silence can be holy, and where children can hear—maybe for the first time in a week—that they are not consumers or clickbait, but beloved children of God. Out of that conviction grew our newly branded Sunday School program, “Just Us Kids.” The name itself is a play on words: just us—because kids need a space that’s tru...

The headlines can feel overwhelming some days, but even in the midst of it all, some stories remind us of life’s stubborn resilience. Like seeds pushing up through concrete, joy has a way of surprising us. Renewal is always possible. It reminds me of my own gardening story. I used to be an avid gardener; in fact, I started the community garden in Valley Ridge. What began as a simple wish to grow vegetables close to home blossomed into a project that brought neighbours together: hands in soil, laughter in the air, tomatoes ripening on the vine. For years, that garden gave me joy. But seasons shift. My life shifted. And I discovered there’s nothing wrong with letting go of what once lit me up to make room for something new. Recently, I’ve been surprised by joy in a different way. A dear friend moved back to the city. For four years, I treasured her semi-annual visits. But her return has brought even more joy than I imagined: a new rhythm of friendship, unexpected laugh...

Sometimes, God confuses me. Let me back up. Like any mom or partner, I think I know what’s best for my family. I pray for my husband and child to be safe, for good things to come their way, and for them to be happy. That sounds good, doesn’t it? But the truth is—life doesn’t always play out like that. Kids get hurt. Partners struggle. Dreams don’t always unfold the way we imagined. We pray for success, and sometimes survival feels like the holiest win. Does that mean God isn’t listening? I don’t think so. If anything, it reminds me of Job—the one who shook his fist at the heavens and asked, “Why?” Job never got a tidy answer. What he got instead was presence. God didn’t cause Job’s pain, but God did show up in it. Maybe that’s the surprise: God doesn’t hand us a script to follow, but invites us into a bigger story than we ever planned. A story where prayers are answered not always with what we asked for, but with what we didn’t even know we needed. Sometimes we have to step back, take ...