“My heart is steadfast, O God, my family will heart is steadfast. I will sing and make melody.” Psalms‬ ‭57:7‬ ‭NRSV‬‬

Last night we had the distinct pleasure of performing with the Cardiff Arms Park Male Choir.

In one of the pieces composed by our resident composer (and all around awesome friend), James Brown, are the words, “then meet we as one common brotherhood of peace and love.” As the Great Lakes Touring Chorus, and as the choirs we come from (Brampton Festival Singers, Headwaters Concert Choir, St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church Brampton Choir), we often feel this way about each other. We have travelled together, we have worked hard to make beautiful music, we have been exhausted together, we have gathered at table together, we have laughed and talked and just generally gotten to know and love each other well.

We had not met The Cardiff Park Arms Male Choir until last evening. And yet, as we made music together, as we admired each other’s performance, as we shared the stage and the nerves and the joy – we became one common brotherhood of peace and love and music (as our wonderful emcee put it).

Then, we all went out to the local pub for more fellowship, story telling, some singing and a night that none of us wanted to let end.

Music is truly a gift from God – able to cross barriers of time and place and culture, able to bring us together in a common bond.

(Sorry no photos! Too busy enjoying the experience!)

“Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, who alone does wondrous things.” Psalms‬ ‭72:18‬ ‭NRSV‬‬

I used be terrified of travel. It was because it takes flight to get anywhere truly extraordinary. You can get across Canada by car. You can get down to the states from where I live by car. But anywhere beyond continental North America takes flight. And I truly hate to fly.

At one point I decided that fear would not be the thing to hold me back. And so I began to travel. And what I discovered is that I fall in love with nearly every place I go. Every new place I travel to is filled with wondrous things. Castles to be explored, great works of art to be seen up close, new foods to taste, new laughs and joys to be shared with friends.

And that is exactly what today was like: we started with a walking tour of Cardiff – seeing the sights and learning the history of this small and beautiful city. Then we toured the museum and saw works by Monet, Rodin, Rembrandt. Then we had a lovely break for a delicious lunch. The afternoon was spent at Cardiff Castle. And finally, a group dinner followed by meeting up with the Welsh men’s choir who we will share the stage with tomorrow.

Wondrous things. From the beautiful architecture, to the truly outstanding weather, to the gastronomic delights, to the silliness of finding new places to pose Fuzzy Angus and a new friend (a red dragon, aptly named Fuzzy Owain) for him to hang out with.

Wales is beautiful and full of absolute joys.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. James‬ ‭1:17‬ ‭NIV‬‬

It always amazes me how tough the first day of a tour is. You’re exhausted from the flight, you don’t have enough mental bandwidth for what you are seeing and doing. You fall asleep continually as soon as you are on the bus (at least in my case).

And yet, you’re seeing a don doing thing you may never get to again. We enjoyed bath – both for the site of the Roman bathing house (and the tea we enjoyed there, will live music of course!) and for the beautiful little town of shops and eateries.

And then after a scenic (though I slept through most of it) bus ride we arrived in Cardiff. A quick stop to the hotel rooms to unpack and freshen up and we were off to Pierre’s for dinner. A great day filled laughter and exploration.

“The LORD will keep you from all harm— he will watch over your life; the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭121:7-8‬ ‭NIV‬‬

First blog. Flight.

It’s 12:52 Toronto time. We are over the ocean, the southern edge of Greenland is north of us. In London it is 5:54 am.

The hardest part of travel for me is the waiting. Once the packing is done, and everything is ready to go, all that remains is a long and nervous wait to begin. As soon as I had called my Uber, I was ready. The traveling part had begun. And though there were still nerves, they were secondary to the excitement of having begun. Of moving forward.

Now all is quiet. My fellow travelers are seeking some rest. I am no longer vibrating with nervous tension. I’m ready. Ready to endure the flight. Ready to begin our adventure. Ready to make more memories and to gather more stories to tell.

I’m always aware of the stories. Already, there is the story of my Uber driver through whom I was able to pass a message to a seminary classmate of mine, whom I haven’t seen in more than 10 years. God is in the details.

And the story of the groom from a wedding I performed last year, who made sure that my roomie for the tour and I received champagne and treats on the flight. God is good. All the time.

I’m endlessly intrigued by the thought that the good you do comes back to you in a thousand ways you could never imagine. I’ve been reminded of that twice already.

Clear eyes. Full hearts. Can’t lose.

That was the rallying cry of Coach Taylor on Friday Night Lights, and it fits as the rallying cry of Christians everywhere. Let our eyes be clearly focused on God. Let our hearts be full of the sacrificial, life-giving, transformative, love of Jesus. And we can’t lose.

Amen, and let’s go!!

Above: Fuzzy Angus ready at the door of my condo!

Above: Fuzzy Angus immediately found friends and food and wine at the airport.

Above: Erin and I enjoying surprise champagne on the flight.

Above: we survived the flight! Time to get this party started for real (after a ridiculously long wait in he lineup for customs, I mean)!!

So here’s the thing: I’m not a morning person. I’ve seen a number of sunrises in my life, but given the option I’d prefer a sunset any day. I admire people who rise early and get a start on the day, but I’m not one of them.

And yet, my alarm went off at 5:30am today. I got dressed, got breakfast into my dog and headed out the door with the things I needed to make it through the morning. I arrived at the church by 6:20am and was climbing the hill in Centennial Park by 6:30am. The moon was still up, and bright, though the eastern sky was glowing with pre-dawn light.

It was cold, and there was a bitter wind that made it colder. But as we gathered and as we began to read the story, as we sung the Easter hymns and the sun shone on the faces of those in attendance – it was worth it. It was not only beautiful, it was holy.

To be there. To be together. To be proclaiming what the followers of Jesus have been proclaiming since that very first resurrection morning more than two thousand years ago: Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed!

And that was just the beginning of day.

A wonderful (much warmer and also holy) service took place at Graceview at 10:30am. Complete with a flower cross and a presentation by the children. The music was beautiful, the fellowship warm, and thinking on it many hours later – I just cannot stop smiling.

Once the service was over, my friends and I stopped by my condo to pick up my dog and my luggage. Then we road-tripped out to my parents’ place where we shared a glorious turkey dinner, lots of laughs, and time spent with family (chosen and blood).

I am blessed. This entire day has been blessed. All because He is risen!

The Lenten season has come to a close, the Easter season (50 days after Resurrection Sunday) has begun!

One of the write-ups at one of the stations of the cross in Graceview’s Maundy Thursday prayer vigil, had a line that I haven’t been able to get out of my head. It was once Jesus had been nailed to the cross, it said: the cross is his pulpit now.

And at first I didn’t quite get it. But when I got back into my my car, this song by Andrew Peterson began to play:

Last Words (Tenebrae)

And as the last words of Jesus washed over me in song, I thought, “Oh, the cross is his pulpit and these words are his sermon.”

Even as he died a painful, public, torturous death, Jesus spoke words that showed who he was.

“Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.” (Luke 23:34)

“Today, you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke 23:34)

These two show us his mercy – that he would extend forgiveness and comfort even here, even under these circumstances.

“Behold your mother, behold your son” John 19:27

“I thirst.” John 19:28

These two show us his humanity – he knew that John and Mary would need each other throughout the years after his death. He knew what it was to have family, to need family, and so he commands that they be family to each other. And then those two simple words – I thirst. Because having gone through the trauma his very human body needed hydration.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Matthew 27:46 & Mark 15:34

This one shows the lengths that love will go to – even so far that Jesus would willingly be split from God the Father, a part of himself, one with whom he had the closest of relationships since before the dawn of time, if that’s what it took to win forgiveness for the human race.

“Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” Luke 23:46

“It is finished.” John 19:30

These two show his commitment, the sense of relief that he has been able to stay the course. To do what must be done. To see it through.

As horrible as the events of this day were, God worked it together for the good of humanity.

I am humbled. And I am more thankful than words could express.

It is a hard night. A night on which Jesus was betrayed. A night on which he told the disciples one of them would betray him. A night on which Peter would deny him three times.

It begins with a little comfort – supper among friends. But even here, the discomfort sneaks in. Jesus passes bread and wine around and speaks of his suffering to come, his imminent death. He speaks of betrayal and denial. All of what he says will come to pass. At the table, he speaks the truth, though the disciples cannot quite believe it.

Jesus is alone. Among his friends, he alone knows what must happen. How hard it will be. What it will cost him.

It must have broken his heart. And yet, he is resolved. Determined. Purposeful.

For he knows how desperately the human heart needs forgiveness. How incapable it is of saving itself. How far we are able to fall and how fragile our efforts at reconciliation.

And so, in the midst of all that was taking place, he gave commandments: this do in remembrance of me; love one another that your joy may be full; serve each other, as I have served you. For if his friends would abide these commandments, they would draw close to him, they would be his church.

So it is with you and I – through all the centuries that separate us from the night on which he gave these commandments (Maundy comes from the Old English for Commandment) – when we abide by his instructions, when we live our lives in The Way, Jesus draws close to us (and us to him).

So friends. Remember. Love. Serve.

In Jesus’ name.

Our Lenten journey is drawing to its end. In the next few days, all over the world, brothers and sisters in Christ will observe the final days of Jesus’ life.

Some will gather at a table and share bread and wine, remembering that it calls to mind his blood shed for us and his body broken for us. Some will sit silently keeping prayerful watch throughout the night. Some will walk the path that Jesus walked through Jerusalem as he carried the cross to Calvary. Some will recreate that walk in their own context. Some will sing mournful songs and weep bitter tears.

In whatever way we go about it, Jesus is the focus of our observances this week. He is center stage, and though what he goes through is difficult to witness, we dare not look away.

For he goes through all of it for us. Every moment of pain, every mocking word, every lonely step. He goes for you and for me.

So that we could never say that we had been unloved. So that the distance between our Creator and ourselves – the distance brought into being by our sin – would be closed forever. So that death and sin could no longer have any power over us. So that we would be forgiven. Utterly. Completely. Evermore.

We dare not look away.

This we do in remembrance of Him.