In my past reflections, I have written about my experiences with anxiety and depression. And, along with anxiety and negative thoughts, often comes doubt. Doubt in myself, doubt in my decisions, and perhaps even doubt in God. 

Feelings of doubt can be discouraging and unsettling. They can be a major distraction, putting a dark cloud over all of the good things around you. They can isolate you, make you feel overwhelmed, and they may distance you from God. But, the unfortunate fact is that doubt is still extremely common. All of us have experienced periods of doubt in one way or another. And, though doubt is a shared experience for many, how one responds to it can make all of the difference. 

In this reading, Jesus is calling all who gathered to follow Him and share His good news — even those who doubted. 

I find that when I am in a sea of doubt, I have two options facing me. I can give in to the doubt and drown in those negative thoughts, which often results in a low mood and a pessimistic attitude. Or, I can offer up those doubts to the Lord, who wants nothing more than to take them away from me.  

I will admit, I am not always clever enough to notice when those waves of doubt begin to surround me, nor am I always humble enough to let the Lord take over those struggles. But, when I do let God ease my mind, I always feel most at peace and most myself.

Never be ashamed of your doubts (you’re only human!). Embrace them and let the Lord into them. Even if your doubts are about God, bring them to Him. Allow Him to guide you to your resolution. I pray that I may be open with the Lord about my doubts each day and be humble enough to surrender them to His will. Amen. 



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​Megan Noye
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As with any suffering, there are going to be seasons when we are overwhelmed. We’re past our breaking point. After enduring our heavy burden for so long, we stumble. We cry out. We look to God for freedom from our burden.


The entire world has been united in that cry at one point or another over the past year and a half. As a planet, we have endured hardship, both through the virus and the many means we’ve used to minimize the devastating impact of that virus. We’ve been asked to stay in our province, our county, and our homes where possible. The things that were so important for our mental, social, and physical health have been restricted, postponed, or even outright cancelled. Our exhaustion is understandable. We don’t have to look far to find another person experiencing the same burnout.


If nothing else, this season has reminded us that we’re really all in this together. Our actions impact one another. Our choices make the difference. And that impact may not just be on ourselves, but on a family member, co-worker, or stranger.


But how are we as Christians called respond to this instance of once in a generation global suffering? In many ways, it’s akin to an airplane losing pressure. We must first put on our oxygen mask and then ensure those around us are protected. If we don’t work to protect ourselves both emotionally, physically, and spiritually, we won’t be able to help those around us.


We are called to call out to our heavenly Father, in total trust that the Spirit will provide us the graces required to endure. We can also experience our suffering in union with Christ. Our desire to turn to God in such times is a powerful witness to those around us. Our endurance is a testimony to God’s faithfulness.


The care we offer to others — the metaphorical oxygen mask — is to act as Christ would have us act. Being unashamed of the Gospel means living a life radically changed. That life accepts that we need the care of our Father — without shame for our weakness, but rather in celebration of God’s working in our life. We are also called to live as though the Gospel has actually informed our actions and reactions. God is our Comforter, but also spurs out into service of our neighbour. We are called to be with the vulnerable, to care for the needy, and to minister to those in need of consolation. Let’s allow ourselves to be weak, so that God can show His power and glory in us. Today, as with every day, I cry out like a helpless child, in total trust that my Father is with me.




Stephanie Potter

If someone asked you to share with them the story of your life, what story would you tell them?

For most of my life, I would have started my story at the moment of my birth. When and where I was born, who I was born to, where I grew up. I would talk about where and what I studied, the places I’ve visited, sprinkling in details about past and current hobbies and interests. Then, I’d end with the many ‘hats’ I’ve collected in adulthood. In other words, my story, and consequently my identity, would have revolved solely around the tangibles of my particular existence, with me smack dab in the middle of them.

In this week’s first reading, I hear Moses inviting me to re-imagine the story of my life. In his narrative, my story begins at the dawn of humanity with Adam and Eve, and progresses from there. If there was a general arc to the tale, it would be the darkness, and the stumbling efforts made in ignorance, but necessary to learn and grow, until finally, I was ready for the Light. At the center of my story would not be me, but the One who made me. The Author, and my Sculptor, fashioning me as He does all His cherished possessions, making me blessed.

At this prompting, I spent some time this week meditating on the idea of a personal life story that belongs to everyone. Instead of seeing the narratives in the Bible as allusions to present day experiences, or as critical events in the history of my faith, I considered them as an extension of my identity as a person. I am not among the Israelites who witnessed the parting of the Red Sea, nor am I biologically any of their descendants, yet, through this exercise I found myself able to rejoice in the Glory of God because I could understand that what He was doing wasn’t just for them, it was for me too. He is my God as much as He is theirs, and it is through Him that we are all fastened together.

A fine balance in understanding that I struggle to fully articulate but this changed the way I thought about my relationship with the Bible. No longer was it simply a resource, or an avenue to draw closer to God, I began to see it as the context of my existence. As if prior to this exercise, I had been drawing an image of myself on a blank sheet of paper with no background. I had been allowing myself to hover in white space, and I hadn’t even known it!

This exercise has opened up a new avenue of self-knowledge, and self-expression. We don’t have to stay within the lines when it comes to recounting our life stories — we are free to take up the entire space, knowing that the self-portraits we create only grow deeper as the rest of the sheet gets filled in.




Laura Dysart