We can draw strength from faith, community

As you read this column, the trees are aflame in their annual transition into vibrant reds and gold. Mornings and evenings are crisp and invigorating. We’re into the season of “mists and mellow fruitfulness,” as John Keats memorably described in his poem, “To Autumn.”

Yet as I write this, lawns across much of our diocese are parched, gardens and crops are withering under drought, and a brutal heat wave has made summer a season to endure, not enjoy, for much of the time. Beyond our diocese, trees are literally aflame across large regions of Canada as wildfires rage.

Walking across lawns burnt brown, with withered grass crunchy underfoot, I’ve watched shrubs and trees shrivelling in the heat, as though the land itself has become something unrecognizable. It’s profoundly unsettling. I can only imagine how much worse it’s been for people forced to flee their homes due to wildfires, wondering if they’ll even have a home to return to, as thousands of Canadians had to do this summer.

It’s easy to sink into a bleak mood when what we have known all our lives seems transformed for the worse, and not just our land and climate, but much more. Canada’s economic future looks uncertain as the impact of tariffs takes hold. Anxiety easily arises when we ponder what the future may hold.

Uncertainty affects our Anglican faith community as well. Across Canada many parishes face aging and shrinking congregations, although our own diocese shows some more encouraging signs, as reported in last month’s issue of The Anglican.

We can draw strength from the hope found in this month’s scripture passage from Lamentations (3:19-26), a book about the grief Jeremiah and God’s people felt after Jerusalem had been destroyed by the Babylonians. The Jews faced exile and suffering, yet God promised to stay faithful to them, even if they were no longer in the promised land. God’s love never runs out.

We can count on God’s faithfulness – but we need to realize that how that faithfulness takes shape in our lives could well be different from what we expect or hope for. As our new primate, Archbishop Shane Parker, has reminded us, “We live in a different time today.” It’s not always easy to accept how radically different a time it is.

Our personal lives are also often full of change and transition. We are creatures of habit and find comfort in routines and the familiar, so adjusting to new realities can feel daunting. Significant changes often leave us feeling a loss of control, uncertain and fearful of what lies ahead.

We find strength in realizing that we are co-creators of the future with God, drawing inspiration from God’s faithfulness, even in dark times. Change is not an interruption to our journey as followers of Jesus; it is central to it. We are being transformed into more than we have been, although that transformation often unfolds more slowly than we would like.

Resilience can also help us persevere through tough times. My brother John’s health has declined sharply during recent months due to cancer and emphysema. His mobility is very limited, and even breathing is difficult at times, yet his spirits remain remarkably upbeat. How does he manage that? He shows resilience by acknowledging his new reality and striving to make the best of it. Just as important is the support of the community. Friends and neighbours stay in close touch with John, offering companionship and help with practical needs. One cooks a delicious dinner for John almost every night. That person is isolated due to mental health challenges. John befriended him years ago. It’s a beautiful example of how community transforms lives during seasons of hardship.

We have so much to learn from those who face drastic changes in their lives, their own parched summers, and adapt to them with grace and sometimes even emerge stronger than before.

The trees can also offer us a life lesson. As they let go of their leaves during autumn, they can show us how to let go of our fear. To be patient during what can feel like death. Buried in that bleakness, however, are the seeds of spring. As Christians, we are people of hope, even in the darkest times.