The Work of Christmas Begins Now....

Reflecting the Grace of God

In sharp contrast to the image of Jacob, who wrestles with an angel and prevails, the Lord redeems Jacob from hands too strong for him. Jacob does not always prevail. We too are reminded that it is not our own strength but God’s power that blesses, strengthens, fills, gives, and grants peace. God has the power to bring together and to scatter. God creates family not because we are God’s blood relatives but through adoption. In baptism we are claimed, redeemed, and forgiven. We receive wisdom and are lavished with grace. We are marked with the seal of the Holy Spirit. We receive an inheritance. Through God’s powerful gift, we are gathered up, become children of God, and receive grace upon grace.

  

Receiving this gift of grace we are called to live as children of the light. In this holy calling we have John the Baptist as our guide. You can tell the story of Jesus leaving out all sorts of important details. In John’s gospel the shepherds, angels, and manger are all absent. But the gospel writers agree, you cannot tell the story of Jesus without John the Baptist. You simply must have the one who comes solely to point others to Jesus. This is our calling as well. We who are forgiven and redeemed, we who are claimed and called, are the ones who point to Jesus. We do this with our lives; we do this with our words. We point to Jesus when we feed the hungry, when we invite those we know and love to know the gift of grace we see in Jesus. We point to Jesus when we allow the holy light of the season to shine through all we do and all we are.

Theological Reflection

At Christmas we get a clue about the identity of the church. John the Baptist testified as a witness to the light (John 1:6-7). The resurrected Jesus later told the disciples that they were witnesses (Luke 24:48; Acts 1:8), and the early church claimed this identity (Acts 2:32, 10:39-41). Witnesses tell what they have seen.

Where do we continue to witness God’s illumination? How is being witnesses a core part of our being as the church? In what ways do we testify to God’s ongoing work in the world?

From Sundays & Seasons

“Until We Meet Again”

“Finally, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” These words from Philippians 4:8 have been a kind of lamp for me these past weeks, and now - after the most glorious afternoon of tea, prosecco, jazz, and your generous hearts - they rest in my hands like a folded note from the one who first taught me to love this place.

I am overwhelmed. That is the simplest truth. Overwhelmed by the sight of the Fellowship Hall full of faces, by the laughter that sounded like a benediction, by the music that wrapped us in memory and hope. Overwhelmed by bouquets and ribbons and the many ways you found to say “thank you” - and to say I matter to you. 

Your gifts, both tangible and tender, will be used wisely and remembered fondly, but it is the gift of you that will stay with me: your stories, your grace, your open hands and open hearts.

You honoured me with an exquisite party, but what you gave me, was far more: a living portrait of Philippians 4:8. When I try to describe St. Philip’s, I see truth - honest conversations at coffee hour, confessions and care in the emergency rooms of life. 

I see justice - your steady hands at Good Food Market, your voices for the vulnerable. 

I see purity - the simple, daily sacrament of showing up for one another. I see loveliness - the way you decorate a table for fellowship, the way you make room for the shy and the bold. I see good report - how news of your compassion travels beyond our walls. 

I see virtue and praise - the steady kind that makes a neighbourhood kinder and a soul braver.

I have been a preacher for many years. I have learned that sermons finally live in the doing - the echoes of words shaped by your actions. You have made the gospel tangible for me. You have answered countless prayers with your hands and feet. You have been my colleagues in joy and sorrow, my teachers in humility and my reason to hope.

That afternoon, watching you - the old and the young, the quiet and the loud, the long-time friends and the new faces - I felt what I have felt each Sunday for thirteen years: deeply known, deeply loved. The jazz brushed against the rafters like a blessing; the tea warmed us like fellowship; the prosecco bubbles mirrored the tiny miracles we celebrate every day. I watched you laugh until you cried and cry until you laughed, and I remembered every baptism and funeral, every council meeting and Bible study, every time we wrestled with hard questions and found prayer standing at the door.

Thank you for the beautiful words you offered, for the thoughtful gifts, for the cards and the hugs that said so much without a single sentence. Thank you for the generosity that will carry me into the next chapter with grace and peace. But most of all, thank you for letting me be part of your lives. Pastoral ministry is a mutual making: you have shaped me as surely as I have tried, imperfectly, to serve you. I leave enriched by your faithfulness, by your stubborn hope, and by the daily practice of love that you make visible.

I do not say goodbye so much as “until we meet again.” The bonds we share are not bound by a meeting or a schedule. They are stitched into the ordinary fabric of our days. I will be praying for you - that you continue to look for what is true, honest, just, pure, lovely, and of good report. I will be rooting for you as you find new rhythms and, I suspect, as you discover gifts in one another you have not yet known.

May the music of last Saturday linger in your rooms. May the laughter return at unexpected times. May the work we began together continue in willing hands and brave hearts.  And when you gather, please remember: the best sermon I ever preached was the one you lived.

With gratitude and love,

Pastor Tuula

Beloved... you are enough

"And a voice came from the heavens, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."

Mark 1:11

You are my beloved!  Let it speak to you.  You are not alone.  Through the gift of baptism you are enough!  

With endings there are new beginnings.  When you stand where the land meets the water and take that step into the water, you know you can't step in the same water twice.  As it flows, so does life.  And while it might not become easier, it can become truer by taking the step.  It may be muddied - but it will be magnificent.

Because you are beloved.  You are enough.  Take the next step.

Happy Thanksgiving! Let Appreciation Ripple into your Everyday Life

If we postpone Thanksgiving until Monday, we risk turning it into little more than a calendar entry, rather than the heart-changing occasion it could be.

Relatives will pour in: grown children pulling into their parents’ driveway, university students trying to decide whether to shave off their mustaches to avoid teasing, and new in‑laws wondering if they’ve wandered into an English literature seminar instead of the calculus course they studied for. Conversation will be a minefield - warnings from the front seat (“Don’t bring up you‑know‑what around Grandpa and Grandma”), bargaining in the back (“Try the green stuff and we’ll swing by McDonald’s”), and a few half‑truths and inside jokes tossed like confetti (“We know not to let Linda carve the turkey—ha!”). The poor new son‑in‑law smiles politely, clueless.

Even kitchens change for the occasion: houses that subsisted on ham sandwiches and microwave dinners suddenly produce elaborate meals,  Still, all this effort doesn’t guarantee that Thanksgiving actually happens. Many people will be relieved to have food and family, but relief is not the same as gratitude. It is easier to rehearse what we want next than to savour what we have already been given. For many of us, accumulation has not bred appreciation.

Henri Nouwen put it plainly in a letter to his young, prosperous nephew: greater wealth hasn’t made people friendlier or more communal. Instead, success can isolate - reducing informal gatherings and the simple pleasures of being together, and making it harder to sing, pray, and celebrate in a spirit of true thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving should not be confined to one day on the calendar. It is an invitation to shape a life of gratitude - starting now. Make the shift from a holiday of habits to a life marked by thankfulness: listen more deeply at the table, name the gifts you often overlook, and let appreciation ripple into how you live every day.

See you in church,
Pastor Tuula