My writing has taken various forms through the years, from years of regular blogging (which are memorialized here, not all of which I stand by!) to my more recent infrequent posts capturing my sermons & creative writing. Thanks for visiting; please comment and join the conversation.
This is a poem I wrote for Geez Magazine’s Advent reader in December 2023. The reader’s theme was “Prayers for the End of the World.” It got me thinking about the unstoppability of the Creator’s life force, constantly composting life out of death, and my longing to see this happen even after an apocalyptic environmental destruction. Geez sadly closed its doors this year, so I figured I could now publish this on my own website.
Unlike my wife, who loves to make a good Top 20 list, I feel too much pressure trying to rank and rate all of the things. Instead, I give you, in no particular order, a few of the things I enjoyed in 2022.
I wonder… in what ways do you feel vulnerable this Advent season? this lifetime?
What part of that vulnerability do you feel invited to lean into?
Where do you hear the invitation to stop numbing and armoring yourself
and step into the “octopus creativity” and Christlike empathy that vulnerability can foster?
And on the other side, what part of your vulnerability is exacerbated by oppression
and longs for justice and liberation?
When I met Janette last fall at a Stop TMX potluck lunch, I was immediately taken by her hospitable warmth. She seemed so sincerely interested in getting to know me that it made it hard to find out about her! I’ve since learned that she’s 58, she is a Presbyterian, she grew up in Japan, and then studied environmental science and community health in Toronto. Since then, Janette has spent most of her life serving and advocating in three areas…
Robyn was tall and lanky, unkempt, but in a way that seemed intentional instead of neglectful. He was usually clad in skinny jeans and a T-shirt, with a ball cap to cover his stringy hair. I never had any clue how old he was, but I remember his birthday was in mid-May.
It was impossible to find Robyn on demand, but you’d run into him everywhere.
And what’s more, no one wants a God who runs scared.
No one wants a God begging at the border to be spared.
A God with bare and frozen skin, utterly dependent on the mercy of foreigners,
a God needing to be rescued before that God can rescue us.
This is a sermon I delivered this morning as a guest preacher at Canadian Memorial United Church for their “PIE Sunday.”
