La Communauté Chrétienne Siloé was born in Montreal’s Chinese Presbyterian Church just six years ago with five families attending its first service. Today, Siloé is a congregation of the Presbyterian Church in Canada with 234 members.
As I grew up, I turned away from anything that had to do with religion. The very word reminded me of residential school. Evening prayers and forced Sunday school attendance; I was having none of that in my life.
Sometimes a text of scripture sticks in my mind for days and even weeks. While this can be true of music as well, I have come to realize the spiritual significance of these Bible passages that take hold of my consciousness for a time.
My favourite place to bring people on pilgrimage is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem’s Old City. To our Protestant eyes, there isn’t much recognizable ground.
A Parable: No one was certain why the Park family’s dog was at the baseball game, but Rover was there. Rover, deciding to live up to his name, took a walk and ended up in the outfield. Turmoil ensued.
My middle sister, Pauline and I were sitting around the bedside of our oldest sister, Barbie. There was heavy silence that hung in the air.
General Assembly is about community. Connecting with old friends and new is so much more than a cliché.
The book of Hosea is an extended rant by a God who is mad with love for a covenant partner, mad with hurt for that partner’s unfaithfulness, just plain mad at human stupidity and arrogance.
When the engine of our second car almost literally blew up after midnight in the middle of a November snowstorm, I didn’t immediately recognize it as the most significant thing God had done to kick-start our ministry at Côte des Neiges, Montreal.
Shooting the messenger is an old tradition, and that is part of our job description.
The first thing I want to do is say thank you to the 380 ministers who completed our online survey and the 30 people who wrote me in response to the April editorial with suggestions on how we could improve the Record.
My church is not made of brick and mortar. It does not have hard wooden seats or songbooks. My church is not contained within four walls of a building.
In 2004 as a meditation at a ministerial meeting, our local Catholic priest read us this powerful story. I often think of it and it challenges me and should challenge us all.
We all claim we are friendly, hospitable churches but it’s the newcomer who can tell us the truth.
Luke gives us some details. The mourners walk with a widow. Her only son has died. This is how Luke frames miracle stories. An important relationship has been broken.
Two decades ago, in 1996, a so-called “Silent Exodus” was declared in the United States, drawing attention to the incessant—albeit hushed—departure of young Asian Christians
Let’s plan to be radically countercultural in how we encourage faith development. Let’s cross the generations as we learn and grow together so that seniors, millennials, children and youth teach and learn from one another. Hardly radical, you say? I believe it is.
It’s easy to become inward looking—concerned more about how we feel than how newcomers feel; concerned more about our buildings than about building a community where people experience God’s love through our deeds.
Picture an old saint named John. He lives on the rocky island of Patmos, a prisoner for his faith. Under the rule of Rome. He dreams of Jerusalem.
Recently, in a discussion with a minister who was sharing his life and challenges, he revealed some of the specific issues of his ministry, especially as it impacted his kids. This was not a new experience for me.