An Old Friend or a New Enemy?

I’m sitting in a Starbucks in Regina, and I’m on holidays. That changes everything. There’s a bit more space in my head, a bit more freedom to experiment, and less pressure to stick to my usual routines. So I decided to make a small moment out of an ordinary day: I opened my calendar and marked it down—September 13, 2026, Regina—the day I tried a pumpkin spice latte again for the first time in years.

When pumpkin spice lattes first showed up, I was completely taken with them. I loved the flavor. Sure, they were too sweet for me, but I accepted the sugar overload because the taste felt worth it. It was a treat, and it felt like a seasonal signal—like fall could be ordered in a cup.

Then the bandwagon got crowded. Everybody piled on, and the whole thing started to feel noisy. It wasn’t just the drink anymore. Suddenly the flavor was everywhere. Cereal, bread, donuts, pop, tea—honestly, the list kept going. It felt like the world grabbed the idea and squeezed it until it was no longer special. So I hopped off. I didn’t want pumpkin spice to follow me down every grocery aisle.

Lately, though, I’ve noticed something. Some of those companies seem to be backing away from the whole pumpkin spice everything approach, and going back to what they normally do. The hype has cooled off a little. And that made me curious. Maybe it was safe to try again. Maybe I could have the drink without the whole circus that came with it.

So I ordered one. And yeah—it was sweet. Still sweet. But it was also good. It tasted like an old friend you haven’t seen in a long time, where you remember exactly why you liked them in the first place. I’m sitting here now, sipping it slowly, and it isn’t half bad.

Outside, the weather is starting to turn cool. The trees are beginning to shift color. Everything is leaning toward fall, and this drink fits that mood perfectly. It’s funny how a flavor can match a season, not just outside but inside you too.

I don’t know if this means I’m fully back on the pumpkin spice train, but I can tell you this: it feels like a small second start. A tiny reset. And if I’m being practical, I’ve got Starbucks cards that need to be used, and there are worse ways to spend them than on expensive drinks that make a regular afternoon feel like a mini event.

All the best. I’m heading back to my holidays. 

—letters from vacation. 

The Magic of Radio

When I was a child of 14, my great-grandparents had an auction sale because that's what you did when you grew older and you had to move.

Somehow our family got an old plastic radio, and since I was interested in radio, I took it down to my room and began to play with it. 

It had the AM dial on it, but it also had something else called SW, which I would learn was ShortWave. 

It was not easy at all to hear anything on shortwave. Mostly because I didn't know how to listen to the shortwave band 

It requires a delicate and a light touch. You need to have your ears tuned and focused on listening, with full attention on what you're hearing through the static. 

I continued to learn through my listening, and one day I bought a thin piece of copper wire from the Mayfair Hardware store. 

I strung it out through my basement window up to the eaves, and followed the fence to the bottom of the yard. 

I returned back to my radio, and that night I hooked up the wire to the radio. And my oh my. The world opened up to me. 

All those hours I had spent learning to listen now paid off with the extra antenna. 

I picked up England and the Netherlands, Congo, China, the U.S.S.R.  I heard Ecuador and I heard Switzerland and Germany. Austria, Berlin, Australia, Angola, Afghanistan. The Far East and Israel. 

Of course, Cuba and Radio Belgrade, Radio Denmark. Japan and Kiev, Norway, Singapore, Sweden,
And on and on and on, and I have never looked back. 

And that's the difference between a radio full of static and a fun, enjoyable hobby. 

You have to learn to listen and to receive and to actually hear, because that's where you find the joy. 

It is a mix of the magic of radio waves, propagation, and just learning how to listen that makes it fun for me.

 

 

My omnibus on sabbatical, daily prayers, and the condition of the Western Church.

I'm at my desk in my study in the church on a Saturday afternoon, and I think I'm all ready for tomorrow, and it's raining outside. Feels like it's been overcast or raining for a few days now, and I imagine if I was a farmer, it would be getting old. Well, truth be told, I'm not a farmer, and it's still getting old. 

We are now a couple of weeks past our five-week sabbatical break. And it's still good to be here. 

We are playing catch up with people's lives and with the work. Thankfully, we're shifting gears into summer when it's quieter around here, so that allows me some space to catch up. 

The daily prayers have picked up again, and they are at thefieldpastor.com.  If you're interested in such things, you can get up to speed over there, including seeing some of the videos that we took on our holidays.  I usually play them at the end of the daily prayers. 

It was really good to be away and to change the view from our front window for a time. It was very good to experience some other worship and church traditions. I learned some things. I experienced God's love and mercy, and the space in my life to just spend time with Him was a great gift.

I had coffee and visits with other pastors, some young and some retired. I caught up with church leaders and church attenders. I met some new individuals who feel a call towards some sort of pastoral ministry, although the context that they are in locally with those callings would not fit within a local church these days.  

I met with people who are fed up with church, who are tired of the same, who somehow feel the wind of the Spirit blowing on them yet to little effect in their local church. I saw people who are longing for relationship over religion. I talked with people who want to be friends of Jesus but don't know how. 

It felt like, because of being away for a while, or maybe even because I've been in this local field of rural ministry for 18 years, I felt like I was able to see Church with fresh eyes.

Honestly, I've been landing a lot on the thinking of church religion versus authenticity in the Spirit. 

Religion is one of those words that has a broad variety of meaning. Certainly, with far more definitions than I'm willing to undertake at this point in my life. However, for the past while I have been landing in the place where religion looks like the things we might do to keep things in order, or to keep things the way they are, or to just keep things.  

Pastors can be the worst offenders of this sort of religion because it helps control and maintain authority. Or maybe a better word is it just helps to manage order. 

So we have some rules that we create to help manage our large groups and our worship, to help us keep things orderly but focused on God. And over time, when we start to depend on those sorts of rules to lead the church, it's like we've given the keys over to religion rather than Jesus, who is the head of the church. And you know as well as I do that that's not a great thing. 

And so I've been reflecting and thinking about the things our local churches do to manage their lives, but we might not consider them religion. 

I am seeing, first of all, within myself these sorts of actions at work. And I don't like that. 

When Jesus is the head of the church and when his spirit rules our hearts, we can't always control what happens, and we can be real control freaks sometimes. 

And rules for order are not evil things,  they're not always religion. When the spirit is guiding the local church, when Jesus is head of the local church, all can be well.  

It's just that after a while, if we don't keep on top of these things, there are other things that kind of take over the direction of a church.  I suppose it could be political things or societal shifts. Where the focus of the local church lies and what its true agenda is. Of course, the hearts of its leaders will speak a lot to where that church ends up going. And sometimes the direction it's going isn't great. Maybe even isn't godly. 

I see a lot of our churches involved in political discussions, in theological debates, and in engaging in the fads of the day. Those sorts of things scare me good, not because they're not worth of a discussion, but because of how absolutely distracting they can become for a church.  

The past two weeks in our daily prayers, we have been working our way through Second Peter, which is Peter's last writing.  It's like listening to a man who knows his time is limited and he has a few important things to say, so he wants them communicated clearly. 

Peter's second letter is almost completely about false teachers. 

They were infiltrating the church back then already, and their priorities were greed and their own baser instincts. How dark they are and how they twist and trick, especially new believers, into following paths of sin. 

This has been causing me to think deeply about our local churches and our pastors and our leadership. I'm starting to land in the spot where I think there are a lot more false teachers among us than we would identify or realize. Or possibly even name. 

A good chunk of my work is spent in trying to redirect followers towards Jesus. Young believers who once upon a time came to faith but began to follow a strong individual who was perhaps more concerned with his own wealth or his own sexual pursuits.  They end up going down paths that lead them only to darkness, rather than moving them closer in direction towards Jesus Christ and his cross. 

Honestly, I'm kind of surprised at Peter's strong language about this all.  But that strong language has been forcing me to sit and think. First of all, about our own ministry here and about what I call people to. But it's also been making me think about the condition of the church, certainly in the West, which is my experience. 

So many of our churches are pursuing things that they think are important but have little to do with being conformed to the image of Jesus Christ and pursuing him alone. And so in the quieter moments between me and God, I ask, "Is this the falling away that is spoken of in Scripture?" 

I am wrestling with the core values of church today in Western civilization. I mean, I have been for a long time, but this is much more challenging to me than it's ever been. When people who believe in Jesus and who have a life full of good fruit, when they are struggling to find a church that will support their faith in Jesus and his leadership in our lives. And when our churches are distracted by new theologies and fads and a faith that is empty of power, well then I wonder. 

And I ask, "Where is the church?" And maybe how is the church? And finally, what is to come of the Church?  

Praying for answers,
Pastor Randy 

 

 

 

 

A Prayer At Seeding Time

Father, we are a church planted in a field.
And though our own fields may be in different places
we are still, in many ways, people connected to the land.

For our food and sustenance, for our daily bread, we give you thanks.
For the strength to work in our fields of service, we give you thanks.
For this place, a gathering place in a field with roots that go down over a hundred years,
we thank you Lord for those who have worked here, before us.

Now oh Lord, we ask that you would again, bless the land.
Bless the seeds and the earth.
Bless the skies and the sun and the rain.
Bless the workers with safety and the wisdom to know,
when enough is enough.
Oh Lord, bless this season.

It is good for us to stop and to remember and to say it out loud,
that our life comes from you Lord, and not from our fields.

So thank you Father, for whatever you’ll do with the work that we’ve done.
We know that without your blessing, we will struggle.
And without seasons of drought, we forget to pray.

So we’ll take what you give, just as you give it,
for you are our father and you only give good gifts.
Though we tremble a bit, because we want what we want,
We choose to entrust this year to you, because of your great love for us.
And so we ask for the Blessing.

Father, Bless this year
Amen


R.F.

I Was Made To Be

I was made to “be”
And out of my being, I do

My doing comes from my being.
It’s when I get that reversed, when my being comes out of my doing, that I get in trouble.

And it takes me a while to return to my be-ing.
And then life is balanced correctly again.

Because I was made to be.

Silence over Sound

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

In the quiet is the place I find healing, and hope. Strength and resolve.
Yet I don’t find it easy to go to the quiet places.

I crave noise.
Maybe it distracts my mind. Maybe it allows me to not engage with my spirit, yet it engages my mind.

I have a strong mind and it always calls for noise. It engages my attention, so that my attention can go no other place.

Silence over sound. Solitude over silence.
This is the way forward, for me.

Tears have been my food

I am not myself these days.  
Feels like I have trouble finding my footing every morning when I get up out of bed. Finding my equilibrium, my balance, more emotionally than physically but it's all in play. 

Psalm 42 describes my days so very well.

1 As the deer longs for streams of water, 

    so I long for you, O God.
2 I thirst for God, the living God.
    When can I go and stand before him?

3 Day and night I have only tears for food,
    while my enemies continually taunt me, saying,
    “Where is this God of yours?”

4 My heart is breaking
    as I remember how it used to be:
I walked among the crowds of worshipers,
    leading a great procession to the house of God,
singing for joy and giving thanks
    amid the sound of a great celebration!

5 Why am I discouraged?
    Why is my heart so sad?
I will put my hope in God!
    I will praise him again—
    my Savior and 6 my God!

Now I am deeply discouraged,
    but I will remember you—
even from distant Mount Hermon, the source of the Jordan,
    from the land of Mount Mizar.
7 I hear the tumult of the raging seas
    as your waves and surging tides sweep over me.

8 But each day the Lord pours his unfailing love upon me,
    and through each night I sing his songs,
    praying to God who gives me life.

For the choir director: A psalm of the descendants of Korah.

Love unpacked

My calling to a lifetime of ministry has always been very clear and strong in my life. It came with clarity after a summer of ministry in churches and camps, working with people, learning from God. It was right after that and before my third year of college, when He started talking with me about answering a call he had on my life.

The truth was that I was willing to work for Him, full steam. But I didn’t want it to be in Pastoral ministry. Many of my pastors during my teen years were more about their own kingdoms, than Gods. A number of them brought division to the church.

And honestly, I didn’t understand pastors who were about keeping the big wheels turning, more than they were about the people. Pastors who wanted to protect old church systems and old rules, who seemed to care little about people, and Gods church.

Yes I was naïve what with me telling God what I would and wouldn’t do for him. But he was patient with me. I mean, look at me now having completed 39 years in local church pastoral ministry.

Anyway, this morning we were walking and talking. You might call it praying. I was reflecting on the unique pastoral ministry opportunities He’s led us in. Lay pastoral ministry in a large bilingual language and cultural church in southern Ontario. Starting a new church in South Winnipeg. Helping heal a broken church in Saskatchewan. And ending up in a rural country church in a field in Alberta.

He showed me how, over the years He has kept me from pastoral work that was all about systems, structures and keeping big wheels turning. The exact things I never wanted to be involved with. The clarity struck me with such care.

Many times I have wondered why God led me to the churches I have served and not others I thought I might prefer. I expect there are many reasons most of which I won’t know until I see Him face to face. But this morning he did show me something amazing. That none of the churches I’ve pastored have forced me to change my values. I’ve never had to give up my principles of people over systems and structures.

When we demand that the rules of the church become more important than the people who make up The Church, it has become religion. And I’ve never wanted to spend my life propagating religion.

It’s just me

This week I am alone in the field. Lauralea is off to Winnipeg to hang out with our daughter and her twin sons, so I am holding down the fort.

And it’s good.

It’s me out here and it’s the Lord. Other people may come and go but this week it’s just the two of us. And I’m enjoying it. 

We hang out we share life together. I tell him things and he shows me things. And it’s quite lovely.

I’ve taken the last couple of days for fasting. And when I do that, I always am closer to him, and his voice gets clearer, without interruption. And so we walk and we talk first thing in the morning, maybe a bit in the afternoon, and then in the evening before bed. He and I just walk and talk.

I will usually fit a nap or two in throughout the day, because when I’m not eating, I get tired quickly. 

This week is busy already, and I will be glad for the time I had with him at the beginning. There are many needs out there, people looking for a way forward. My point is always that they can have a life, with God, and it’s all the life they could ever handle or want to handle. And as Jesus did we respect their pain and the fact that we are all just humans struggling towards eternity. But yes, there will be plenty of opportunity to do that this week.

The farmers look like they’re just about all done with harvest, amazingly. And just as if it was perfectly timed, some rain starts to fall tonight. It hasn’t rained in over a month, and it’s taken a good month of beautiful days to get the harvest off.  As I say, it’s amazing how that works. 

Anyway, tonight I might treat myself to Sunday Night Football.

You take care of one another out there.

Thoughts on Nine Eleven

Today I watched, or more truthfully, I listened to the talk that Billy Graham gave just three days after 911 happened.  It was in the service in Washington, which America have been called to prayer by the serving president, George Bush. 

His words reminded me of how people had responded to the tragedy back in that day.

People were going to church, to pray, and to look for comfort. People were asking real legitimate questions. 

(I have friends who worked in those buildings on that day, but the tragedy made them think twice about how they were living their lives. One friend of mine redirected her life completely, and is now involved in good ministry.)

The church attendance was noticeably up, and I remember that many of us as pastors were asking "Is this the turnaround that the world needed?"

We were deeply saddened, but it was a flicker of hope there, people returning back to God.  At least for a time.  

Billy's words reminded me of the feelings of that season of my life. Hopeful that God would be able to get through to peoples hearts. That people might actually finally be open to listening. 

While it may have affected some people, certainly those with friends and family involved. Yet the rest of the world seemed to move on. And the attendance blip in our churches went back to a flat line again.  

I honestly don't know what it takes to get through to this world these days. 

But some days I do fear that we are going to find out.  

Some thoughts on a beautiful day

It’s a beautiful day today for a funeral. Or more specifically for a memorial service.

One of our elderly ladies who has been a part of Malmo for 60, 70 or 80 years, passed away in June. And today is the day we will gather to lay her physical remains to rest. That which we saw with our eyes, heard with our ears, and touched with our hands.

She, her essence her spirit has gone on to be with God in His glory. That was his promise to her and his promise to each of his children.


It has been interesting to observe the traditions around death and burial over my past 40 years plus of ministry.

It used to be when the loved one passed away, that a service would be structured and carried out within 5 to 7 days of their passing. That would mean that some of their plans were limited. That maybe not all the family could be there for the funeral.

It also meant that the service would be much simpler than it has become. The food afterwards, a simple affair.

But it has become much more about convenience. When the loved one dies, they are cremated, which then opens things up widely for a service date anytime in the calendar.

There’s time to plan a very ornate service, with high production values. With music and videos, and wonderful facilities and full meals.

And the family and friends can then gather whenever they like for that event.

I understand some of that. But what it’s done is begun to put pressure on simpler funeral services. There’s now an expectation of quality, in music and leadership. There’s an expectation of live streaming the service around the world. There’s an expectation of catering the meal with quality foods because, the loved one deserves the best. And on and on it goes.

The complexity of it increases dramatically, and then of course the expectation does too. So that today, people with financial restraints, sometimes will feel guilty about what they can and cannot provide for their loved one.

I prefer the simple services, that focus on gratitude and worship of God for his work in the life and through the life of his loved one. A simple but heartfelt service, and simple refreshments.

Things are always in flux as time goes on. And it will probably self correct as money and resources become more scarce.

Anyway, this is my work for today.

Blessings all.

Gratitude for this field

Earlier today, I was doing my prayer walk around the yard here in this field. And again, I found myself overcome by the quiet beauty of the place.

It’s very hot this week, but in the shade and with a bit of breeze blowing, it’s quite lovely. So I tried to keep my walk in the shade of the trees and the buildings.

And in this place, I find it easy to pray. I find it inviting to open my heart with God and to converse with him on light topics and some very deep topics as well.

But it’s just deeply enjoyable to spend time with him outside this summer.

And again, I realized how grateful I am that he brought us to this field, and how this place has become food for my soul.

Somewhere along the past 17 years, I’ve changed from being a city boy with all the activities and action, with all the coffeeshops and pizza places, with newspapers and instant sorts of necessities like that. To be a country boy who is pleased with the quiet and the slower pace.

The boy who is good with walking with the father in the cool of the day. To look at the beauty of God’s creation and to be better in my spirit because of it.

This place is good medicine for my soul and God always knew that would be the case.

And so as it has been the case all this summer, my love for the place is renewed. My spirit finds rest and comfort and healing. My soul finds space for creativity and life and my body can stretch out in different directions and just enjoy all that we have here in this place.

And it’s not hard to see how the world has changed and darkened and become so much less than over the past 18 years. It’s not hard to see that at all. And when I see it, again I am glad for this place of peace.

God does good by me here in this field and I am so grateful.

A Happy Childhood

This morning, on the way into town, I had to drive through a construction zone on the highway. They were resurfacing a portion of it I guess.

But as I slowed down and waved at the flag lady, or girl, the smell just captured me. My attention was drawn immediately to the smell. It was the smell of asphalt or tar we used to call it. Oil was certainly a big part of that smell.

When that smell hit me, a picture flashed through my mind of grandpa Thiessen. I know he used to work as a flagman on the highways, and I would sometimes go out with him on the work projects and you could smell that smell all day long.

The tar, the oil, the asphalt, and somehow in my mind it's been connected with him all these years.

But this morning was a real, powerful reminder. The image that came to me was of him. I remember smelling that in their yard as well because the Austin town streets were being recovered.

So even at their house, there's an echoing memory of tar and oil.

It's funny how that thought and that smell can be a comfort. How that terrible, nasty, gross smell can be the good thing, a blessing.

But as I thought about that, it led me to remember summers at their house. In southern Manitoba, in a small town, in a small house, on a nice green yard with lots of room to play and to laugh and to have fun. When we would go there for summers the times were special.

Sometimes we would bring a trailer and park it in their backyard and us kids would sleep in the trailer for night .

But summers in southern Manitoba are different.

The heat will get you.

The humidity is even worse.

It can be 30°+ Celsius, but when you add the humidity to it, it can become overbearing. Especially more as I aged.

But back then, when I was a kid, we just handled it. We sweat. A lot.

After hot and humid days of trying to find ways to stay cool while being very busy outside, there would come a bit of a gentle breeze.

The heat was always so overpowering and heavy and as evening would come, so would the thunderstorms. Thunder and lightning storms in Southern Manitoba are unlike other places I've ever lived.

They were stunning and dramatic, earthshakingly powerful.

The noise and the flashing lights was an amazing thing for a kid who wasn't necessarily afraid of them. But we still took wise precautions.

But after a hot humid day, the rains would pour and pour, and the lightning would flash, and thunder would roll again and again late into the night. You would go back to bed after that storm cleared and somehow fall back asleep, and soon another one would roll through.

Then, early in the morning the sun would rise and the birds would start singing. They were especially noticeable when I slept outside in the trailer.

When you left the trailer to go into the house to wash up, things felt so different. It’s those mornings I remember the most.

I remember that the air was sweet and cool.

The birds would sing happy as could be. And the whole day seemed blessed.

There was a sweet smell to the air. It was full of hope and potential. Another new day, what would happen that day?

We had made it through another storm. Everybody still alive, nothing damaged, and nobody hurt.

But I remember the breeze. The breeze would be cool because some of the moisture in the air. The humidity would be there, with none of the heaviness.


Yeah I remember the air being sweet, if that's a word I can use to describe it.

It was it was a thick, good wind because it brought moisture to the nose, to your skin, and that's always good. .


The memories continued to unfold as I remember Grandma.

In her house dress. Cooking or washing up, keeping the house going, talking and encouraging and checking on us or being out in her garden.

She was always out there early in the year, one of the first ones out on her block to be in the garden.

I remember that she seemed to love doing that, being outside, with her vegetables and her flowers, her onions, potatoes.

Yeah, she loved that.

She was a kind woman, but stern, firm, maybe firm is better.

She gave you a lot of room to be a kid.

She didn't have a great deal of high expectations.

Just behave reasonably and that was good enough.

She fed us well with fresh homemade bread. And boiled potatoes with gravy.

I remember Inside of the house was always so hot in summer. It was a small house so when three or four or eight people were in it, the temperatures would rise. So they would try to blow air through. Fans would be running all the time.

The fans and the open doors and the open windows would help that sweet air to blow into the house and help so much. I sometimes wonder how all those people made it without air conditioning in those days. How they could manage it, but they did.


Later in the morning, I would head outside to where my grandpa had a little wood shop, a workshop, built and attached to the back of the garage.

And you could go in the side door there, and they had a big counter with woodworking tools of all kinds. A lathe and saws and drills, and drill presses, and all kinds of wonderful tools to play with, and I would work and create for hours.

I would make little salt and pepper shakers on the wood lathe that I had learned how to make in school.

I would make airplanes, wooden airplanes, and grandpa would help me with that.

I remember he helped me with my first one. We made a an airplane with just two by four body and a wing that was made of, I don't know, a quarter inch plywood. Not a very big deal, maybe a foot by a foot, but a fun wonderful toy that you had built yourself, and then you would go play with it, and you would paint it, and you could put it on a weather vane if you wanted. But it was yours. You created it.

It was wonderful.

But that's how woodworking used to be. And that's how play used to be in those days. It was creative. It was fun.

I remember once, my cousin and I who lived out there, we took a 22 rifle and we laid it on a 2x 6 plank. Just three or four feet long, and we traced its outline on the wood, and then we cut it with a saw, and we cut out the shape of this gun, and we began to work it, to soften the edges, to sand it, to rasp it, to grind it into a pretty good looking toy gun that we could play with.

Those were fun happy moments. Terribly enjoyable memories for me today.

Yeah, playing, just playing.

I miss the days of playing.

I miss the wonders of the mornings and the sweet smell of the air in the mornings.

I miss the comfort and the peace and the safety in their place.

I'm glad for the memories. They are blessings to me and I want to create them for my grandkids too.

So we shall see.

Just the whole family is all !!!

 we haven’t been all in the same room for over 11 years now, and that was before many people existed and many relationships even existed. Well, this was our Christmas picture when we all got together this past Christmas. I can’t believe it took me this long to get it up here.

My how the times have changed, and so have the numbers of this gang. It’s hard to believe really.

Once Upon a Sunday Morning

Today was Sunday and I was up and ready for activity early in the morning. I got dressed and started to head over into the brisk temperatures.

Honestly, I was a little bit surprised at just how beautiful the weather was this morning. So I took a walk down to the cemetery and through the backyard area where we are working the ground to get it ready for winter. 

And as I do, while I walk, I pray.

Couldn’t get over the fact that there was no snow yet and this is past mid November. Nor was it in the minus temperatures this morning. Some November mornings can be in the -20s and -30s Celsius. So there was no complaints coming from my lips today.

The sun was coming up and it was looking glorious, burning off the frost and the fog off the ground. So I dawdled and took my time. 

I would have to say that this year my understanding of God and my time with him has certainly been growing.  Even at this ripe old age of 61, #eyeroll it feels like I’m just starting to understand some of God‘s love for me, and for us as his children. My encounters with Jesus have been enjoyable and I would say more like fun than anything else. There is a growing familiarity there that allows me to relax into his presence. Yet still, there is a sense that when it’s time to work, we get to work.  

I am loving our times together and our conversations.  It’s worth every moment I get to spend with him.

Anyway, my time was done and I had to go inside where the kids were already practicing some songs for the upcoming advent season. I guess that’s next up on the calendar.

So You Want To Be A Pastor

The most crucial advice I can offer to any pastor, whether they're seasoned, just starting out, or even considering ministry, is profoundly simple yet immensely powerful. It's a truth that has resonated in my heart for years, and I've finally found the words to express it.

In the book of Acts, there's a remarkable passage where the Pharisees are astounded by the disciples' wisdom and eloquence, despite their lack of formal education. The secret to their profound knowledge? They had been with Jesus.

This, dear friends, is the cornerstone of effective pastoral ministry. The single most important thing you can do as a pastor is to consistently spend time with Jesus. This practice will unlock wisdom, deepen your understanding, and provide divine insight. It will equip you with Christ's words and empower you to teach God's truth with heavenly wisdom, guided by the Holy Spirit.

But what does 'being with Jesus' look like in practical terms? It means immersing yourself in God's Word daily. Are you reading the Bible regularly? Are you not just reading, but truly absorbing it, pondering its messages, and meditating on its truths? Equally important is prayer. Are you engaging in meaningful conversation with Jesus Christ, both speaking and listening?

I firmly believe that if you commit to these practices daily - spending time in the Word and in prayer - you will become an effective pastor. Combine this with a genuine love for people, and I can almost guarantee your success in ministry. This is more vital than any seminary education or formal training.

Looking back on my years in ministry, I can clearly see that my most fruitful seasons were those when I prioritized being with Jesus. So, to all aspiring pastors, I implore you to take this to heart. Make spending time with Jesus your top priority. It's the secret to pastoral success, the insider information that will set you apart. 

Amen.

Back to College: Grateful Memories, Wishful Thinking

This morning I was drinking my coffee, staring out the window. It had been a cool night. The days are hot and the nights are cool. And while I was staring out, all of a sudden I had an inner heart reaction to the time of year and I thought to myself I should be getting ready for college right now.

I went to school up at Peace River Bible Institute up in northern Alberta and I was there for four years. And each autumn of those four years felt just like it felt this morning. Getting ready for school, getting ready to be away from home, getting ready for seeing old friends and making some new ones, and getting ready to study the Bible again and learn and grow in my relationship with God.

Those were amazing years for me. And as I drank my coffee staring out the window, I found myself saying, if I could go back there this year, I would. I would go back and register to be a student and to take a class or two or five and to focus again on the ordered discipline of study and prayer and the word of God.

Those years meant a lot to me and they shaped me into the man I have become and the pastor I have become. And so I'm grateful for those years and those good memories. And I think if it was up to me here today, I would do it all again. 

One more year at school please. Thank you very much.

Labor Day House Cleaning Brings Autumn

This week, on Labor Day exactly, I decided to wash the front of the house. The front of the house faces north and it can get pretty dingy and mildewy and covered with bugs, flies, spiders and spider webs and moths, a whole assortment of dead animals clings to the house. And so this week I decided to clean it.

Unfortunately, the day I decided to clean it was 31 degrees. I didn't think too far in advance, but really it was my only day off in which to do this. So I went at it pretty hardcore for quite a while. And of course I ran out of gas pretty soon. Took a break and then I continued on slowly. I finally got it done and I've been paying the price for it ever since.

The weather this late summer and already beginning into September has been surprising. There have already this summer been more plus 30 Celsius days than I can ever remember in one stretch living here in the past 16 years. And today was a little bit cooler I think about 20 degrees Celsius. But the forecast is for more heat. Into the 30s again this weekend. As I say, I'm not sure what's going on, but man it's been hot during the day times.

There are a few more chores I need to do around the house before the leaves fly. And of course it's time for Lauralea's and my yearly vacation to go visit the kids. So that will be happening as well, but it does feel like summer has broken now. Any plus 30 days we have are just the dog days of summer kicking and trying not to give up too quickly. No, it already feels like we're moving into autumn.

The guys are harvesting the crops. The leaves are starting to turn colour. The geese are starting to fly overhead. And so it comes.

And that's the news that's fit to print from this field today.

Stillness

 

For me, this is true. 

Back in the Saddle

Well after two weeks of vacation, I am back in the saddle and in my office here in the church, looking at what has to be done before Sunday. Feeling a tad, overwhelmed. Trying to prepare for Sunday, trying to visit, trying to connect with people, trying to prepare for meetings, and answering emails and requests, getting videos ready.  

I liken it to having a treadmill that's already running at speed, and I'm going to try to jump on this thing and get to speed pretty quickly.  

And so I am writing this post instead. I am hoping it helps me move past staring at a blank screen phase of work. 

I need to get the sermon started. I need to prepare for a meeting. I need to…  pray and be still. Which really is kind of the opposite of what I'm trying to accomplish here.

One way is the way of the world and the way it does work. Another way is the way of God and how he does work. 

Which way will I have faith in today?