The pandemic should have levelled the playing field in many ways. It showed us our mortality — our vulnerability. We were presented daily with ways to love our neighbour: feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, protecting the vulnerable. Usually, our neighbour in need is segregated and hidden from us, but the trials of the pandemic pushed them into public view. The medically vulnerable took to social media, begging those around them to make selfless choices that would protect their neighbour. Those unhoused by unscrupulous landlords formed a tent city in the middle of our downtown core. Our Church’s ministry to families received increasingly frequent requests for support for those in need of food and other necessities. Many people who believed their situation to be stable were completely destabilized.


James’ dire warning to us is a good reminder as we enter into what I hope will be a less stressful point in this global pandemic. James is reminding us not to get comfortable. To keep our eyes on those in need. To not let our riches burden us. When we are blessed with prosperity, we are not to wrap our riches around us as though they’ll insulate us from the terrors of life. In fact, those riches fatten our hearts and put scales on our eyes. Our ease is blinding. And those riches are not only material, but those of position. Do we take our privilege for granted and ignore opportunities to come alongside those whose needs are not ones we can throw money at?


As the vulnerable become increasingly invisible again, our obligation is to cast off the scales on our eyes and seek them out so that we may serve them. We are being reminded to use our platform for truth; use our material wealth to ease the burden of others. And we should do this not out of fear of the fire James is promising, but inspired by the holy fire of the Spirit which makes us burn for love of God’s children.




Stephanie Potter

There came a point in my faith journey when I suddenly realized what it meant to be chosen by God. It was coupled with an appreciation of the bountifulness of God’s generosity to all His chosen people and that we’re all receiving something incredibly wonderful — and more of it than any of us could possibly imagine (through no merit of our own).

My initial response to this revelation was gratitude mingled with guilt. Knowing that I didn’t do anything to deserve it, how could I fully enjoy it when I knew so many others never would? It didn’t seem fair to me that I should be chosen and others weren’t. But rather than blame God for not choosing them, I felt His response to my moral dilemma was something along the lines of, “There is nothing stopping you from sharing with them what I’m giving to you.”

Unfortunately, this is not the beginning of the story of a great evangelist. For the most part, I consider myself among those who find it difficult to bring up His name among non-believers. I can appreciate that nearly everyone has a history with God, even if it’s simply based on the Church’s reputation, and I often doubt the persuasiveness of my own lived experiences to convert them.

More often than not, I remain silent, praying that through my other endeavours, I am leaving enough material for God to work with to touch the hearts of others. Not just through volunteer work at church, but also in my everyday life. I imagine that if I can be gentle, patient, and compassionate with others, I might be able to convey to them, in a small and imperfect way, the love that God has for them — even if I’m not entirely successful at being virtuous. Even if they don’t understand what I’m trying to share with them now, my hope is that one day they will, under the framework of ‘the one who reaps and another who sows’ (John 4:37).

While understanding that His grace is free and not entirely dependent on my actions, I still sometimes feel guilty that I don’t speak enough about Him explicitly. However, I’m starting to notice my enthusiasm to talk about Him is tightly tethered to how excited I am about what it is that He’s giving me. ‘My desire to convert others’ is really just another way of saying, ‘my desire to share with others the gift that I’m receiving.’ And that gift, in my own words, is to one day be united not only with God, but so many others who fully know, accept, and love me.

The trick may be to keep this at the forefront of my mind, which most people will agree is not an easy thing to do during the grind of daily life. However, I believe being chosen by God is a gift that most people are desperately searching for, and it’s a wonderful feeling to know that it’s one that I can share with them.



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Laura Dysart

The beloved Disciples were living in a perpetually liminal state. Each of them had left everything they knew to be true and good, in order to follow a teacher who was the ultimate Truth and Good. Every day, every moment, was a stretching of their minds, hearts, and habits into a newness of life, and much of what they were being taught is still, after 2000+ years of study, not fully comprehensible to our human minds. And truly, all of those lessons they were being taught are still today, impossible to follow with perfect fidelity. But they loved Jesus — so much — that even though His teachings twisted their minds, and stretched their behaviour into positions of utter confusion, they each wanted to be the apple of His eye.


Confusion resulting from a cocktail of fear and uncertainty can move us into a frozen state; paralyzed by the fear of the unknown, the fear of the loss of love, the fear of the unactualized but potential outcomes we construct in our minds. It’s unfortunate that fear steals away the opportunity to ask, with humility, the questions that rise up out of our hearts and minds, because we then muddle the truth with the fabrications we believe to be true (Think: Thomas versus Judas). Amidst confusion, it is difficult to separate the truth from the lies.



“But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.” (Mark 9:32)

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I think it’s fair to say that the Disciples were reasonably confused — generally speaking, and also because of the trending topic. Who can fully wrap their mind around the concept of resurrection, anyway? And when we are confused, we can often act out of the insecurity we feel. So, they didn’t ask the questions that were rumbling around in their bewildered minds. Instead, they walked straight into the comparison trap — chapter one in the book of insecurity.




“What were you arguing about on the way?” (Mark 9:33)




Jesus, however, is unshakably secure. He leads them toward a disposition of humility by His example: He asks the question. He didn’t have to ask the question. He already knew the answer. Because He is the teacher of teachers, He offers them (and us) a tangible example of humble conduct. Then He proceeds to unpack what this heart posture actually looks like when it is lived out.



“Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” (Mark 9:35)



Secure dispositions don’t compare themselves to others. They don’t try to one-up you, nor do they seek the spotlight. It is the insecure who seeks to be the greatest. Humility points to The Greatest. The secure and humble honour the gifts of the other without diminishing the God-given gifts they themselves embody. They relish in the beauty of the diversity of gifts God has given to each and every one. They are open to the wonderment of how God uses each person’s gifts in a way that unifies, and complements those of the others. They step out of the spotlight so that Love can take center stage.




Lori MacDonald