October 5, 2025 Reflection

When I was trying to decide which scripture to use for today’s service, I had trouble deciding – and then I turned to the lectionary, and I read Paul’s words to Timothy in this week’s lectionary reading – “rekindle the gift of God that is within you” – I feel like he could be speaking directly to me in this season of returning from sabbatical. This scripture isn’t abstract to me right now. It’s alive in my bones. Over these months away on sabbatical, and during my time in Alberta while I was working as a chaplain at Bold Eagle, supporting Indigenous youth during their basic training course with the Canadian Armed Forces, I felt something in me stirred, tended, and yes – rekindled.

Paul is writing to Timothy as a mentor, a friend, someone who knows what it means to grow tired and brave at the same time. He reminds Timothy that faith is not something we manufacture alone – it lives in us because it has lived in others. He says, “I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now lives in you.” And then, almost like a hand on the shoulder, he says: “For this reason I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you.”

Sabbatical did that for me. Not in the sense of escape from ministry, but in being called to a different expression of it.

At Bold Eagle, ministry didn’t look like Sunday morning worship or committee meetings or pastoral care in a church office. It looked like walking alongside young Indigenous recruits navigating culture, identity, discipline, and courage all at once. It looked like late night conversations when homesickness and reminders of childhood trauma hit hard. It looked like laughter around the smoke pit, tears during ceremony, and quiet prayers whispered in places where religion isn’t always named but the Spirit still breathes. I carried no pulpit, no stole, no bulletin. But I carried the same call. In many ways – it felt like a lot of the things we do here at Mt Seymour to live in ways reflective of our call to truth and reconciliation – the 15 or 20 Indigenous book studies, and the learning that many of us have done, was all part of the truth part, and for me Bold Eagle was a very active reconciliation part.  Walking with each other and learning from each other in relationship. All of us who were there were transformed by the relationships we built.

Paul says, “For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline.” Power – not in the way the military sometimes imagines, but in the Gospel sense: groundedness, compassion, presence. Love – not as sentiment, but as accompaniment. Self-discipline – not as rigidity, but as rootedness.

At the beginning of Bold Eagle there was an intensive cultural component that was led by the Federation of Sovereign Indigenous Nations, where we learned cultural teachings and participated in a sweat lodge and learned about traditional dancing and opened each day with a pipe ceremony and a smudge.  During that time I was there, taking in the teachings and getting to know the candidates.  The next day was the official handover ceremony from the cultural component to the Army – and they kind of turn up the heat and are very dramatic about the shift when the Army portion gets turned on.  One of the candidates said to me ‘Padre – you are all smiles today and friendly and encouraging, but we know that tomorrow – things are gonna change around here.  Are you going to change too?’  And I told them nope – I get the best job – I will never yell at you – my job here is to encourage you and to support you.  And of course that is what I continued to do!

One day while I was there, I was gifted an Indigenous name by one of the elders.  My name is Ahn pey too way way ah.  It means Sun Woman in the Nakota language.  When the elder was talking to me about my name he said that I radiated light and love and encouragement.  So I am deeply grateful for that name and will always strive to live up to it. 

I saw courage in young people who carry family histories of trauma and strength, who navigate the tension of serving in institutions that have not always honoured their people, and still rise each morning with determination. I saw reconciliation not as a word on a church banner, but as relationship, listening, humility, and humour. And I was reminded that ministry is less about location and more about posture – less about title and more about trust. Before I went to Bold Eagle, I was talking to a chaplain who had supported the course previously.  He said that I would have a lot of free time and that I just had to be available when they needed me.  So I took 20 books with me and a jigsaw puzzle – thinking I’d have tons of free time.  Then I got there – and realized that yes, I could satisfy the requirements of the job by sitting in my room and waiting for a phone call that someone wanted to talk to me.  But that wasn’t me. As you know, I’ve never been one to do the minimum requirements of a job.  So instead – I was doing PT – physical training – which is their required exercise – with them at 5:15 am, and then with them at every meal time, and during breaks between classes, and then in their shacks at night when they had free time to talk to me, until lights out at 11pm.  But it was through my constant presence and building that trust that they felt comfortable opening up and sharing their stories with me, some of them very very difficult to hold.  What a privilege that was to have earned their trust in that way. 

Later in the passage, Paul writes, “Guard the good treasure entrusted to you, with the help of the Holy Spirit.” I used to hear that as a warning to protect something fragile or scarce. But during sabbatical, I began to hear it differently. Guarding doesn’t mean locking something away – it means tending to what is precious so it can continue to give life.

My call to Mount Seymour United has always been a treasure. But sometimes when we carry something precious for a long time, the familiarity of it can blur the sacredness. Stepping away didn’t distance me from the call – it helped me see it again.

The congregation entrusted me with the gift of sabbatical, and in that generosity, you helped me rekindle the gift of ministry in myself and come back refreshed and ready for this next phase of our work together.

Bold Eagle didn’t pull me away from my call here – it deepened it. The ministry I carry as a chaplain and the ministry I carry as your minister are not separate – they inform and bless one another. The Spirit that shows up in the parade square also shows up in our sanctuary. The courage I witnessed in young Indigenous recruits strengthens my resolve to walk with this community in truth, justice, and reconciliation. The humility I practiced in chaplaincy reminds me that leadership is always shared, always relational, always grounded in love.

Paul says to Timothy, “Do not be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord… but join with me in suffering for the gospel, relying on the power of God.” I hear that not as a call to martyrdom, but as a recognition that ministry – real ministry – asks us to risk, to listen, to tell the truth, and to show up even when we don’t have all the answers. Which leads me to mention another significant part of my sabbatical… Back in May before my sabbatical began, I saw an advertisement for a course offered through the Vancouver School of Theology about Ministry leadership in liminal times – liminal times are times of change and transition… and I thought oh what a perfect course for me to take during my sabbatical!! So I may have been the very first person to sign up!  It was a great course with some helpful tools for leadership within that difficult context and framework.

Globally too, it feels like we are in liminal times. All around the world right now, we find ourselves in a collective threshold space  –  no longer fully rooted in what was, yet unsure of what is becoming. Climate change is reshaping coastlines, forests, and weather patterns faster than our systems can adapt. Entire communities are living between the familiar rhythms of the past and the uncertainty of a rapidly changing planet.

Technology, too, has thrust us into another great in-between. Artificial intelligence is advancing so quickly that we are already relying on tools and systems that didn’t exist even a few years ago  –  and yet we haven’t fully reckoned with how they will redefine work, learning, creativity, or even human identity.

Geopolitically, we are watching old alliances strain and new ones emerge. Wars in Ukraine, Gaza, and other regions have displaced millions of people who are now living in literal liminality  –  between homes, between nations, between belonging and exclusion.

Even socially, there is a shifting of values and worldviews. Generations are no longer aligned on what progress looks like, what justice requires, or what truth even means. Institutions that once anchored society  –  governments, churches, economic systems  –  are wobbling, and many people are now asking: What comes next? What kind of world are we becoming?

So it was good to gather with other church leaders and colleagues and have time together to reflect on how we do ministry in this context and these times. 

I have so much more to share – that can’t be shared in one sermon – but to close, I want to say thank you – to this congregation, to our leadership, to Julie and Deb and others who covered responsibilities in my absence, and to those who held me in prayer. Your trust gave me the freedom to go. Your support gives me the courage to return.

Ministry is not a static thing. The gift needs tending from time to time. And that is not failure – it is faithfulness.

The work ahead of us – as church, as community, as people of reconciliation – is big. But so is the Spirit within us. The same Spirit Paul names: not fear, but power, love, and a steady heart.

So today, like Paul to Timothy, I hear the Spirit saying to us:

Rekindle the gift of God that is within you. Do not shrink back.

Guard the treasure – not by hiding it, but by sharing it.

Live the calling that has been entrusted to you.

I return to you not as someone who left their ministry behind, but as someone who carried it with them and brings it back renewed. Thank you for letting me go so that I could come back with fresh fire, deeper grounding, and a reminder that the call we share is not ours alone – it is God’s, it is alive, and it is still unfolding.

Amen.