2020 was certainly a year for the history books, if not for the dustbin, and by time you are reading this article, I hope you have had at least some time of celebration and restoration over the Christmas season. Even when it is not being celebrated in the midst of a global pandemic, Christmas can be a time of pain and stress, and so we hold tightly to the truth that the “Light shines in the darkness and the darkness can never extinguish it.” (John 1:5)

Jonathan Edwards was the president of Princeton University in the early 1700s, and on a New Year’s Day some 300 years ago, he wrote this in his diary: Resolution One: I will live for God. Resolution Two: If no one else does, I still will.

2020 was a year that challenged all of us in so many ways. Some of us have had friends or family members die of COVID-19. Others have lost their jobs. Parents have had their patience stretched to the limits trying to teach their children at home. Clergy have learnt how to be video stars and film producers. And loneliness and social isolation have spread their dark tendrils around many. If Jonathan Edwards were writing in his diary on New Year’s Day in 2021, he might have written this: Resolution One: I will still hope in God. Resolution Two: If no one else does, I still will.

As COVID-19 has stripped so much away from us in 2020, 2021 gives us an infrequent opportunity to deeply reclaim our personal identity as beloved children of God, called to be disciples of Jesus, living in hope of the coming reign of God. And if 2021 gives us the opportunity to refocus our hearts and minds on our true identity in Jesus Christ, this will equip us to assist in refocusing the core of the mission of the parishes to which we each belong. Our parishes exist to give glory to God, bring people into a life-changing relationship with Jesus Christ, and to enact God’s love to our neighbours – this is our hope and calling. As finances and human resources are stretched in the COVID- 19 era, if something is not supporting that hope and calling in our local churches, then we need to stop doing it.

As our identity and hope are refocused in 2021, my prayerful desire is that as a diocese we will continue to seek creative and missional ways to share the gospel with those who have never experienced it. Church planting, regional configurations of ministry, fresh expressions of church, new digital forms of discipleship, and a renewed emphasis on formation of living faith in children and teenagers – this perhaps is the revitalizing purposefulness that COVID-19 leaves in the wake of its destruction.

This is my last article as a suffragan bishop of the Diocese Toronto, as my episcopal ministry will now continue as the rector of St. Paul’s, Bloor Street. It has been a singular privilege to serve Christ in this way, and please join me in continuing to pray for Bishop Asbil and Bishops Robertson and Shaw, as they lead us forward. Let us continue to still hope in God, together.

I am personally looking forward to all that God has in store for our community in 2021 – the struggles and the joys – and I want to take this opportunity to wish you, and all those you love, a very happy new year and God’s richest blessings for the year ahead.

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Alongside the devastation wrought by COVID-19, this summer has brutally reminded us of the devasting legacy and present reality of the sin of racism. The deaths of Regis Korchinski-Paquet, Ahmaud Arbery and George Floyd, amongst so many others, have not only shone a light on anti-Black violence, but have highlighted the persistent and insidious nature of structural racism, both in the U.S. and here in Canada. As a white woman of privilege, while I am aware that the sin of racism infects my own heart, I also acknowledge that I cannot fully understand the impact and effects of racism on my racialized brothers and sisters. This summer, as part of my own education, I am reading The Cross and the Lynching Tree by the late James H. Cone. If you haven’t read this seminal work, do.

I can’t breathe were the last words of George Floyd. I can’t breathe are the words of many who have been suffocating under the weight of systemic racism and violence for centuries. Racism is smothering the beauty of God’s rich and diverse creation, and racism will smother our ability to follow the God of mission in the Diocese of Toronto. Racism sucks breath and life out of people, so we can be comforted and rejoice with the prophet Job (33:4) that “The Spirit of God has made me, and the breath of the Almighty gives me life.”

Lament is not simply the shedding of tears but is crying out to our Heavenly Father in pain. It is prayer, at the invitation of God, to renew our confidence that in Jesus Christ all things are being made new and the Spirit of God is being poured out on all flesh. As the current Diversity Officer for the Diocese of Toronto, I am working closely with the Intercultural Committee to bring anti-racism and anti-bias training to our diocese this fall. This training will be mandatory for all clergy and leaders of diocesan committees. While under no illusions that such training will “solve the problem,” it is my hope that it will raise awareness about systemic racism and galvanize the people of God across our diocese to pray and work alongside each other on this painful, yet hope filled, journey.

Part of our vocation, as people learning how to follow Jesus, is to allow the breath of the Almighty to call us to truth telling, and then repentance and reconciliation, so that more and more people, reflecting the marvelous diversity of creation, can experience hope and new life. The well known and beloved prayer of St. Francis seems an appropriate prayer to pray together as a diocese as we journey forward in these extraordinary days.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy;
O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

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The latest set of demographic statistics for the Anglican Church of Canada have recently been issued, including the projection that the last Canadian Anglican will turn out the lights in 2040. With that projection, some feel it is now time to turn down the sheets and plump the pillows of the deathbed.

I am not going to spend time here unpacking these statistics in detail, nor argue that the numbers presented should not cause serious concern or grief. I firmly believe that the Anglican tradition is a theologically robust and personally life-giving vehicle for historic Christianity and that its death would represent a significant loss for the Body of Christ and its witness here in Canada. In this season of Lent, I am neither optimistic nor pessimistic, as I believe Christians have a sacred obligation to adopt a posture of hope towards the future; and in light of that posture of hope, I offer some observations.

What concerns me most urgently, as a bishop, is spiritual growth, or what we used to call sanctification. Are people growing in devotion to Jesus? Are their lives increasingly marked by holiness, prayer and sacrifice? Of course, such things cannot be plotted on a graph, yet we must acknowledge that if someone is maturing in their Christian faith, it will naturally lead to loving, culturally sensitive and effective evangelism. In my own experience of parish ministry, when the piety of a congregation was being intentionally challenged and nourished, numerical growth usually followed.

Second, the Christian Church has always been one generation away from extinction, and so each generation (with ours being no different) needs to ask itself afresh, “How are we going to share, with people who have never heard it – starting with our own children and grandchildren – the good news that we have come to know in Jesus Christ?” We have been in a catechetical crisis in our Church for several generations now, and the chickens have come home to roost. And so there has never been a more critical time to be equipping Christian parents to form living faith at home with their children, and for clergy to take the lead in creating opportunities for lay people to be deeply discipled – either through ready-made programs, one-on-one discipleship, rules of life, or small group ministry.

Third, we need a revival in our prayer lives, both personally and in our parishes. Even a cursory glance through Church history will reveal the key role that prayer has played in bringing about revival and renewal in different generations. Prayer is not a program, it costs nothing in the parish budget, and the new believer and seasoned veteran alike may enthusiastically participate. If every ounce of energy that we (myself included) spend fretting about institutional decline was spent instead on our knees, I wonder where we would find ourselves.

Fourth, we must keep an eye on vocations to the religious life, the diaconate and the priesthood. Whenever I have the privilege of officiating at an ordination, I remind the congregation that this ordination is a sign of hope for the Church. For as long as our Heavenly Father keeps raising up faithful women and men to serve in the Church, then God still has work for our branch of the catholic Church to accomplish. There may come a time when God no longer chooses to use the Anglican Church of Canada for God’s glory and purposes, but until and unless there are no more ordinations, that time is not upon us. We must be intentional in encouraging a diverse range of people in our parishes to consider such a vocation.

And finally, there are gifts hidden in the decline, if we have eyes to see them. As resources become scarcer, we are being pushed into local and national ecumenical collaboration and dialogue in a fresh way. Surely this delights God. If our own numerical decline means that we decide to get serious about reclaiming our apostolic calling to be missionaries to our culture and encourage church planting, fresh expressions of church, and reshaping our parishes for mission, then it’s about time. If these statistics light a fire under us to keep re-imagining ministry in our neighborhoods in fresh and creative ways beyond the traditional parish model, then excellent. And if the decline means that we are more ready to acknowledge our own sinfulness (personally and institutionally) and come to God in great humility and repentance, asking to be led forward by the Holy Spirit, then bring on the bracing statistics!

While our diocese will presumably (not discounting the possibility of God bringing revival) be smaller in the coming years, if we are smaller but better formed in the “faith which was once delivered” (Jude 3) then we can still be used for God’s transforming purposes for many generations to come. Small, diverse and well-discipled congregations may well lead the renewal of the Anglican Church that my grandchildren, God willing, could be a part of.

While the reports of our death may be premature and exaggerated, our calling remains exactly the same: to proclaim the good news of Easter in season and out, to the glory of God.

Adapted from an article by Bishop Andison published in The Living Church in December 2019.

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Advent and Christmas can become obscene. You know what I mean. People spending money they don’t have, on things they don’t need, to impress people they often don’t like. And while there certainly will be moments of peace and holiness for us all over the coming weeks, there can also be incredible pressure to have the “perfect Christmas” – beautifully decorated house, fabulous food, luxurious gifts – all of which boils down to a message of “consume, consume, consume.”

Christians have been setting aside the season of Advent, the four weeks before Christmas, for at least 1,500 years, with the first recorded mention of Advent being at the Council of Tours in 567 A.D. It has traditionally been a season of spiritual preparation both for the nativity of our Lord Jesus Christ and for his Second Coming. The first and second coming of Christ are the pivotal points of human history, the culmination of the revolution that God wishes to bring about in this world. The revolution that Jesus brings sees the first being last and the last being first, sinners being offered forgiveness, creation being stewarded rather than exploited, kings thrown down from their thrones, the lowly being lifted, and the hungry filled with good things. So, if Advent is an opportunity to prepare for the coming revolution that Jesus inaugurates, how can we join the revolution and rebel against the siren call of consumerism this year?

As Anglicans united across our diverse diocese, let us search out ways to replace consumption with compassion this Advent and Christmas season. A wonderful resource that many churches are using is called “Advent Conspiracy” (www.adventconspiracy.org). Advent Conspiracy invites us to adopt these four habits (or four virtues):

• Worship fully. Advent begins and ends with Jesus. If you are not doing so already, take on the habit of daily scripture reading and prayer, create an Advent wreath as a family, and use an Advent calendar with your children and grandchildren.
• Spend less. Free up your resources to support things that truly matter. Calculate what you normally spend on gifts and entertaining during the Advent/Christmas season and resolve to spend 10 per cent less this year.
• Give more. Give more intentionally and relationally. You could do some of your Christmas shopping through the Primate’s World Relief and Development Fund, www.pwrdf.org.
• Love all. Radically love others as Jesus did. Is there a broken relationship in your life that you could be intentionally praying about through Advent? Invite a work colleague or friend to join you for one of the Advent or Christmas services at your church.

Advent is a season of waiting – waiting in the darkness for God’s hopes and dreams for the world to unfurl. While God’s reign will not fully be realized until the New Heaven and the New Earth have begun, we are invited to co-operate with the Holy Spirit and shine as lights in the darkness of our present age. Let us be known as people of compassion rather than consumption, preparing ourselves, our families and the communities we are part of, for the coming revolution of Jesus. Maranatha, Come Lord Jesus!

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My 16-year-old daughter Kate and I visited southern India in January, at the invitation of the Diocese of Madhya Kerala. It was so encouraging to see the incredible vibrancy of the Church there and to be reminded of the power of the gospel to change and transform lives all around the globe. But what particularly struck Kate and me was how committed our Indian sisters and brothers were to prayer. Over the course of our 10-day visit, we frequently found ourselves praying with young and old alike for the continued spiritual and numerical growth of the churches of their diocese.

In his engaging book Dynamics of Spiritual Life, Richard Lovelace crafts – by examining God’s renewing action within traditions as diverse as Roman Catholicism to Pietism and Anabaptism – a theology of renewal in churches. If you don’t want to read the whole book, here is a spoiler alert: at the heart of spiritual, and then numerical, renewal in all Christian traditions down the ages has been – you guessed it – prayer. Renewal and new life within Christian communities of any size or theological and liturgical stripe, has always begun with a few people gathering together, in a living room or a field, and turning to our Heavenly Father in prayer. In prayer we draw closer to the heart of God, open ourselves up to being shaped by the dreams and hopes of God, and are strengthened to follow the costly path of being followers of Jesus.

There are many good and worthwhile resources that the Diocese of Toronto and other organizations offer, to help parishes grow in their love for God and neighbour. (Growing Healthy Stewards, Natural Church Development, Revive, Alpha, and mission action plans are but a few examples, and I would urge you to investigate them.) But the longer I am in ministry, the more I am convinced that prayer is as close to a magic bullet as we have got, as Christians. Prayer is not a program; it can be part of your life whether you are a new disciple or a veteran, and it doesn’t cost a penny.

If prayer is at the heart of all church renewal, then I would encourage you to think about joining in with the global wave of prayer called Thy Kingdom Come. TKC is an international ecumenical initiative calling on all Christians to join together for 10 days between Ascension and Pentecost (May 30 to June 9) to pray that their friends would come to know the love of Jesus. It’s that simple. Lots of creative resources can be found at www.thykingdomcome.global to help you participate as a family, individual, youth group, church or deanery. Pick three friends or work colleagues whom you would love to come to know Jesus, and then pray for them every day for 10 days. Pray for 10 days that God would draw new people into the life of your parish. Pray for 10 days that you would be given opportunities to share the gospel with children and teenagers in your neighborhood.

Prayer is where the action is. We have just journeyed through Holy Week together, from the desolation of Good Friday to the triumph of Easter Day. We have tasted death and are feasting on the renewal of resurrection. Let’s join in prayer together, that God would continue to renew our hearts for service, and pray that our local churches would be renewed to be beacons of God’s transforming mercy.

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The wise men, or magi, were from Persia, roughly modern-day Iran and Iraq. They would have been well educated and culturally sophisticated; they had dedicated their whole lives to searching the heavens for signs of significant political events that were to take place.

They had observed a great star at the very beginning of its ascent. Different historians posit different theories about that star. Was it the conjunction of Mars, Jupiter and Saturn in 6 BC or a nova growing very brightly, or was it simply the regular occurrence of Venus at its most brilliant? That doesn’t really matter, but the timing does. “Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star appeared.”  Later on, we are told that Herod ordered the slaughter of all children under the age of two in Bethlehem, and so the star must have risen two years previously. These men would have spotted the star, made mathematical calculations, reflected, researched and looked at the Hebrew scriptures, and then, and only then, would they have saddled up their camels and begun the 1,200-kilometre trek across deserts and mountains to Jerusalem.

They may have made some detours, and in the days before satellite navigation probably made some wrong turns. It took time for those magi – years, in fact – to get to Jerusalem, to have a look at this so-called “light of the world.” It was an enquiring, slow and difficult path that they took. They were searchers and saw their lives as a journey of discovery – “I still haven’t found what I am looking for.”

The neighbourhoods and villages that our churches are in are full of people who are searching for the light – the light of truth in an era of fake news, the light of hope in a culture of death and despair, the light of relationships and community in an age of loneliness and isolation. Local churches are marvellously positioned to be places of genuine welcome, where honest searching can take place and space is created for intellectual wrestling with the meaning and purpose of life – spaces Jesus wants to speak into.

In this past year, I have been encouraged to find an increasing number of parishes intentionally creating space for people like the magi to explore the Christian faith. These people may already be in the church, but many are those in our neighbourhoods who are searching for the light. I find parishes running the Pilgrim course, Refresh and the Alpha course, and spending time cooking meals to go with these programs and thereby creating that safe, non-judgmental atmosphere necessary for people to discover, reflect and search like the magi did. Studies show that it takes years and numerous positive interactions with Christians for people to move closer to Christian faith, so intentionally and repeatedly creating space for people to wrestle with and explore faith is critically important in our parishes.

At Christmas we stood back in awe and wonder as God put God’s cards on the table, revealing to us in Jesus the light that came to dispel the darkness. In this Epiphany season, I would encourage you to do two things. Begin praying for one person you know – a work colleague, friend or family member – who is spiritually curious. And begin to think through how your church could create space, outside of Sunday morning alone, for such a person to search after the light of the world – because they still haven’t found what they are looking for.

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In an age when the last fumes of Christendom are floating away, and we are re-learning how to be evangelists and missionaries within our own culture, keeping the historic Creeds of the Church as a regular part of our public worship together has never been more important. “A creed is a symbol of something larger – and ultimately, of Someone we love, Someone who makes us who we are,” writes Scott Hahn in The Creed: Professing the Faith Through the Ages. When we say the Creeds, week in and week out, we are reminded who that Someone is: that the God of mercy and abounding grace is to be truly known in the particularity of the Jew from Nazareth. The Confession reminds us, in much the same way, of who we are: people desperately in need of God’s love and redemption.

Since I can’t be counted on to even remember to bring my reusable cup to the coffee shop each morning, I certainly need to be reminded, week in and week out, that God is not far off and distant, but is a God who is involved not only in history but also in the tragedies and triumphs of my own day-to-day life. We need the memory aid of the Creeds – this is who our God is! – in our distracted and fractured age.

The Creeds also sweep us up into the activity of God through the ages and remind us that we are part of a story that is much bigger than ourselves and our own fleeting lives. We are part of a family story that goes back to the dawn of time: part of a long line of people seeking after God’s face, from Sarah and Abraham, to King David, Mary Magdalene and now us. By joining in the Creeds, we also have a chance to expressly link ourselves with other Christians around the world – in South Sudan, Honduras and North Korea, to name but a few places – as we share our common faith not only with all the saints who have gone before us, but also with other Christians alive today, both young and old, rich and poor. The Creeds remind us that we are not at liberty to cut ourselves off from them, either in profession of faith or in practice.

The Creeds are a rallying cry of rebellion against the destructive values of our culture that seek to negate and twist all the good of God’s creation. With the passing away of Christendom – a culture that ostensibly supported (or actually undermined, depending on your view) some semblance of Christian norms – the Church has now been freed to joyfully proclaim the Gospel in fresh ways, without being encroached upon by an idolatrous desire to be thought well of by our culture. When we say the Creeds, we are boldly declaring that the world is not as it should be and that God has acted decisively in Jesus Christ to renew all of creation. It is this kind of public witness that is the root of all Christian ministries of justice, peace and reconciliation; if you want to start a rebellion against all the evil and repressive structures of the state, just start saying the Creeds in the public square.

Humans are wonderfully creative, and there are many ways to use the Creeds. As a parish priest, I frequently used the Q&A version of the Apostles’ Creed from the baptismal service, and there are many engaging musical settings. People have often told me that they don’t believe every line of the Creeds, and I always told them not to worry – God still believed in them, and they could step into the family story whenever and wherever they liked. Conscious of the diverse nature of the congregations I visit, I will sometimes introduce the Creeds with an invitation: “Mindful of our questions and doubts, please join me if you are able in this statement of Christian hope.”

The Creeds are a short-form for something much larger. They endure and unite us, and they remind us – and announce to the world –  that in Jesus Christ, God is saying ILYSM (I love you so much).

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As the parents of three teenage daughters, my husband Tim and I are conscious of how teenagers are not simply the Church of tomorrow, which of course they are, but also the Church of the present. We are also keenly aware of the wonderful opportunity that parishes in our diocese have for helping shape teenagers as disciples of Jesus Christ.

Many North American studies indicate that the majority of Christians first began their journeys of faith before the age of 18, and that sharing the good news of God in Christ with others during their childhoods and teenage years can be particularly powerful. This should come as no surprise. During the critical years of late adolescence – a period when individuals are forming their understanding of the world around them, and are really trying to figure out their place in that world – it can be truly life-transforming for a person to hear that God loves them just the way they are (and that because of that love, God has no intention of leaving them that way!). I also believe that the message that our churches can offer – that there is a God who loves us, and who wants to partner with us to help transform the unjust structures in our society and to help create communities of hope and healing – is something that teenagers just might get out of bed for!

We have an opportunity in the coming years to make youth ministry a top priority in our parishes. In the past year, as I have gotten to know the churches of York-Credit Valley, I have seen numerous parishes that already have creative and dedicated ministries for teenagers, and others that currently offer little in this area. No matter where any parish might sit on this continuum, I believe that the Holy Spirit has a great deal in store for any church that decides to refocus its attention, energies and resources onto youth and youth ministry. I also believe that youth ministry needs to be a clear priority, not because of the aging demographics of our churches but because youth are human beings desperately in need of God’s love and mercy. Our strategic plan, Growing in Christ, has identified leadership and formation as one of its key priorities. Let us join in prayer together that we will seek transformative ways to shape in Christian love and wisdom the next generation of young leaders for our Church.

What this means practically will differ from parish to parish. Some might hire a youth minister to strengthen and expand an existing youth program; many denominations that are planting churches in Canada make the hiring of a youth minister the essential second hire after the senior cleric. Our Diocesan Youth Ministry Apprenticeship Program (YMAP) has produced many fine youth ministers currently serving in our parishes, and YMAP can be expanded. Other parishes, which may have a handful of teens, might begin a mentoring program, where older parishioners will befriend teens and begin to read the scriptures with them and look for ways to serve together. And parishes in neighbourhoods where there are currently few teenagers might decide to partner with a parish in the Canadian north, to help financially support its existing youth ministry.

Whatever our context, there is work that God calls each of us to do in sharing with teenagers the joy that is already ours. “For you have been my hope, Sovereign Lord, my confidence since my youth”  (Psalm 71:5).

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Archbishop Temple’s statement can also remind us that the Church is called to exist for the benefit of those who are not “yet” its members. Individual parishes are invited to be continually asking themselves which of their practices will contribute most effectively towards drawing others into the love of God, and to discern what other practices might be better modified or discarded. Archbishop Temple’s observation suggests a framework for making decisions about where to spend our time and resources – a framework that prioritizes those currently outside our churches or those who are just starting to explore what Christian faith and community might look like for them.

Just as the nurturing of an outward focus is an ongoing priority for parishes, many individual Christians innately understand the importance of sharing the good news of God in Christ with those who have not yet heard it, or who have only experienced it in limited ways. In many cases, the easiest and most natural sphere for this is our own immediate families and dearest friends. Some of us might remember benefiting, as children, from hearing God’s stories in the Bible read to us, praying with our parents or helping to plan or participate in acts of service to others, and are now imagining how to translate those memories into our own present contexts.

I have found, during my years of ministry, that one of the most important questions that individual Christians can ask is how to create an environment in which they can encounter Jesus Christ, not just on their own, but together with their children, partners and friends. For example, what are the best ways to create a home environment, or friend network, where we and those closest to us can engage with scripture, ask questions, explore, and pray together while trying to grow into committed followers of Jesus Christ? How can we create opportunities to live out our faith, with acts of service and compassion?

Christians have for generations looked for ways to pass along their faith, heeding the words of Deuteronomy 6:5-7: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength. Take to heart these words that I give you today. Repeat them to your children. Talk about them when you’re at home or away, when you lie down or get up.” The shaping of others in the Christian faith is called discipleship, catechesis or – my personal favorite – the making of saints. Given that the Christian church is always one generation away from extinction, it is essential that our homes and parishes be effective disciple-making communities – places where the claims of Jesus Christ can be intelligently examined, tested and lived out.

Discipleship is a gradual process, neither linear nor predictable, and lasting over the course of a lifetime. People at all stages of their spiritual journeys need safe and non-judgmental communities where they can hear the Gospel and find other disciples who are willing to walk alongside them as they explore and grow. Forming someone in the faith of Christ can take many guises, some of which include one-to-one mentoring, learning through service in social justice ministries, small-group Bible studies, and structured programs such as Christian Foundations, Alpha, Road to Emmaus, the Pilgrim series and others.

Our beloved Anglican Church has enormous potential to be the kind of body that creates and supports such communities, where intentional discipleship for all ages is made a top priority. I am sure that many of us are aware of creative and winsome ways that people in our diocese are already being shaped and transformed into disciples of Jesus Christ, but we have room for many more. C.S. Lewis wrote that “if the Church is not making disciples, then all the cathedrals, clergy, missions, sermons, even the Bible, are a waste of time.” As Anglicans, I believe we can both reach into our rich past, and learn from other traditions, as we reclaim the making of saints as being central to our life together and the continued, and exciting, revitalization of our Church.

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Beginning in 2001, I served in the Diocese of London for five years as the associate vicar at a church re-boot in the heart of the city. During this time, my area bishop was John Sentamu, now Archbishop of York, and my diocesan bishop was Richard Chartres, who has recently retired. Leading the Diocese of London, at least as varied as our own, Bishop Chartres was famous for saying that the only division that actually mattered in the Church was whether a church was dead or alive. The key to growth, in his opinion, was not whether a local church was high or low (or pick any other category you can think of), but whether or not it was alive in Christ, filled with the Holy Spirit. Dead or alive. He encouraged his clergy to pay close attention to nurturing the piety of those who were in their congregations – teaching them how to pray and to read the scriptures. Bishop Chartres recognized that there is no other way to renew the local church but to equip people to encounter Jesus themselves.

Bishop Chartres’ insistence that the only division that matters is whether a church is dead or alive made an impression on me, and I was reminded of it recently when I visited one of the churches in York-Credit Valley that, while small and facing many challenges, is certainly alive and growing. As we live in a context that is post denominational (and, in many senses, post Christian), hardly any of the millions of people who live within our diocesan boundaries wake up on a Sunday morning and think, “I should check out my local Anglican church today.” However, many people would be willing, at the invitation of a friend, to explore a Christian community that is alive and not dead. With this in mind, I recently urged all the clergy in York-Credit Valley to investigate how they could host some form of Christian basics course (there are so many to choose from) after Easter or in the fall. This would not only nourish those already in the congregation, but would also serve as a non-judgmental space for those in the neighborhood who are interested to explore the claims of Jesus, maybe for the first time.

I believe our diocese needs a wide diversity of local churches with varying styles of worship to reach out to our eclectic and growing city and to our changing suburban and rural areas. Confident in God’s unfailing love for us, we should be ready to cast a constructively critical eye over the ways we have strived to share the Gospel in previous generations and in our current life together, and to ask a number of important questions. Where are we true to the mind of Christ today in our local churches? Where have we forgotten our first love, and where do we now worship our preferences? We must be guided by the tradition of those who have gone before us, but not controlled by traditionalism. The fact that other denominations are effectively planting churches across our province reminds us that the Gospel has not lost its power to transform people’s lives, and this can give us great hope as Anglicans. The Gospel does not change, and yet we must continue to seek fresh and vital ways to proclaim the news that Jesus lived, was crucified and yet was raised in great power by God the Father. We follow a God of the living and not of the dead (Mark 12:27).

Secure in the knowledge of God’s love and mercy displayed for us on the cross, Lent gives us the opportunity to be honest about our finitude and sin. When looking at the renewal of the local church – which every generation of Jesus-followers must earnestly and urgently labour for – we must similarly be led by God’s vision for us and not by our problems and failings. Because of the character of our God, I believe many of our churches can be renewed in their love for God and in their love for neighbour. At the same time, we do not need to fear the death of some of our existing structures, since the death and birth of churches has been going on since St. Paul first went on his missionary journeys. Death to life. Thanks be to God, as we all stumble together toward the joy and hope of Easter.

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