Well, we have come to the final plot line in our series, and of all the plot lines, this one probably feels closest to the heartbeat of faith itself. And, for everyone who’s ever told me that The Shawshank Redemption is their favourite film (or the GOAT of films), this is its Sunday to shine. We are going to be exploring the Rebirth plot line, the one where freedom begins not with escape, but with surrender.Through the story of Nicodemus meeting Jesus in the night, and Andy Dufresne crawling through the dark toward the light, we’ll reflect on what it means to be set free by grace and to let old stories die so something new can begin. Both Nick and Andy remind us that sometimes the hardest prisons to leave are the ones we’ve made for ourselves, and that rebirth rarely begins in triumph. It starts when we are stuck in the dark, with a whisper of hope that maybe, just maybe, the story isn’t over yet.Now, someone casually mentioned to me this week that they had never seen The Shawshank Redemption. I felt bad for them. Consider this your excuse to give it a watch or rewatch. Listen in as we explore the Rebirth plot line and the grace that ambushes us in the most surprising places.

Friends, we are onto our sixth of seven storylines. It is time to explore Tragedy. Now of course, some suffering finds us by chance — illness, loss, disappointment. That is tragic, but the plot line of tragedy has much more to do with the suffering we quietly choose ourselves.The Tragedy plot line chronicles stories where a person’s greatest strength becomes the seed of their undoing. From Shakespeare’s fallen kings to Breaking Bad’s Walter White to King David himself, tragedy warns us of what happens when brilliance outpaces wisdom, when ego replaces humility, and when the hero refuses to yield.It begins with small compromises and always ends in isolation. And yet, even here, the story is not beyond saving. The Jesus path meets us not when we’ve fixed the wreckage, but when we finally admit the boat is sinking. Listen in as we explore how even our most tragic stories can still find their way back to grace.

Everyone knows what the comedy plot line is all about, because unlike the other storylines, we measure the comedy plot line by one metric alone: Does it make us laugh? We know that good comedy is supposed to make us laugh, but why?Well, there is a sophistication to the plot line that goes far beyond jokes and punchlines. You see, the deepest truths of our faith are hiding in something as ordinary as laughter. So, join us this week as we explore the strange and serious wisdom of comedy. At its heart, it is a plot line that dares us to believe that confusion, contradiction, and chaos might still give way to something good.Now, on a personal note, I am digging a little deep into the archives for this one. I want to unearth two little nuggets of fun from Nexus that happened during the dark night of the soul that was Covid lockdowns and online services. These two community moments deserve another hearing and they fit the plot line so well. It should be fun to take a little stroll down Nexus’ memory lane.Listen in for some laughs, some wonder, and maybe a glimpse of what happens when the story we thought was falling apart, turns out to be coming together.

Do you remember the first story that swept you off your feet? The one that carried you somewhere strange, only to bring you home seeing everything differently? This Sunday, we’re stepping into the Voyage & Return storyline: the kind of story that reminds us that sometimes you must leave home to truly find it. These are the stories of wandering and awakening, of losing your way and discovering grace in the most unexpected places.From The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe to Castaway, from LOST to the ancient story of a son who runs and a father who waits, these tales echo with something deeply human. They name the restlessness in us all—the desire to go, the ache to belong, and the quiet hope that what’s lost can still be found. I want to explore this storyline with moments of mirth and thoughtful reflection, unpacking why sometimes we must travel through disorientation to recover what is most true.At Nexus, this is more than an old plot line: it’s a mirror for the spiritual life itself. Many of us have ventured far from what once felt like home, only to discover that our journeys are not detours but invitations. Join us this Sunday as we trace the long road back toward meaning, mystery, and love—the kind of home where the light is always on, waiting for us to return.

Friends, “There’s a line where the sky meets the sea — and it calls me.” A little Moana wisdom for you there. You see, every so often, something stirs within: a whisper to leave the shore and set out toward something unknown but deeply worth finding.This Sunday at Nexus, we’re diving into one of the great storylines of life — The Quest — the call to go, the companions who join us, and the road that changes everything. From Moana to Moses, from Frodo to the fishermen of Galilee, the Quest plotline invites us to leave the familiar and set out toward something of ultimate worth.To that end, before Sunday, can I invite you to watch O Brother, Where Art Thou? It is a strange, soulful journey that might just open your eyes to the story beneath your own. It is a modern parable of three companions chasing a fortune they’ll never find, and yet stumbling into salvation all the same. Fair warning, there will be spoilers.And when you arrive, make sure to spend time with our 16 Frames before and after the service — they are extra fun this week. We have designed them to be sixteen windows into the ways we are shaped and reshaped by the quests we take.Every great story begins with a call, and this Sunday at Nexus, we’ll explore what happens when we dare to answer it. I hope to see you all on Sunday for The Quest.

This week in our Narratology series: what do Cinderella’s slipper, Rocky’s gloves, and Harry Potter’s cupboard under the stairs all have in common? They’re reminders that the greatest stories don’t begin with crowns and castles but with ashes, obscurity, and a touch of ordinary. The “Rags to Riches” storyline has enchanted us for centuries—not because it promises wealth, but because it whispers that hidden lives can be holy ground, and that small beginnings might just be the birthplace of transformation.This Sunday at Nexus, we are going to lean into this timeless plot line—not just in fairy tales and films, but in the Jesus story itself. From manger to resurrection, the path of Christ both fulfills and flips the “Rags to Riches” script: the way up is down, and the real riches aren’t possessions but purpose, belonging, and identity. I will hope you will join this week. Bring your curiosity and a sense of playfulness, because the storyline we’re exploring together might just turn “rags” into something far more dazzling than riches.

Well, into our Narratology series we go, and to start, we begin with Overcoming the Monster. From our earliest days, humans have told stories about monsters: the Epic of Gilgamesh, the Enuma Elish, Leviathan, Perseus and Medusa - all are ancient overcoming the monster stories.We are no less enthralled with these stories today: from the 1975 summer blockbuster Jaws (which you should watch before Sunday), to its contemporaries like A Quiet Place, Get Out, or Jurassic Park, we still love these stories. In fact, our 16 Frames at Nexus this Sunday will test your movie knowledge. Each frame will have a quote, and you must guess the Overcoming the Monster film it comes from.There is a reason we love these stories and why humanity has always been obsessed with monsters. They speak to something deep within us: fear of what lurks in the shadows or under the surface, along with a conviction that even when chaos threatens, courage can rise.Scripture echoes this plot line over and over again: from David facing Goliath, Esther standing against Haman, or Jesus entering the very jaws of death itself. In each case, the monster is not ignored, but confronted and undone. And the invitation of the Jesus Path is that this storyline is not just A story, but OUR story.What are the monsters beneath the surface of your life—fear, shame, addiction, despair, or even the cultural forces that press in on us? This week we’ll explore how the Jesus story gives us courage not just to name them, but to resist them. Because every monster, no matter how fearsome, does not get the final word.

If I were to ask you about yourself, many of you would have little difficulty talking about your jobs, families, personalities, daily routines, Enneagram number, or likes and dislikes. But should I ask you, What’s your story?, I am inclined to think many of you might feel a little confused. I know I did the first time someone asked me that question. Is my story my biographical details? Do I have a story?The trouble is, when our lives are without a story or plot, life can end up feeling like a string of days with no meaning. So, it is time for us to find our plot, which is exactly what the first series of our season, Narratology, was designed to help us do.We humans are born storytellers. We shape moments into meaning by way of story. How we are shaped and formed as humans depends entirely on the stories we tell, believe, and live by. Hence, the challenge and invitation of this series is to discover how our own story might be part of something larger, something that gives coherence and purpose to who we are.That’s where the Jesus story comes in. Scripture doesn’t present us with abstract formulas or dry facts—it tells a story. A story of creation and loss, of tragedy and rebirth, of monsters overcome and quests pursued. And here’s the hope: when the grand story of Jesus begins to weave into our own, our lives gain depth, direction, and redemption.

Do you garden? I expect we represent a spectrum from avid to reluctant gardening enthusiasts. Some of us are pressing massive zucchinis into the hands of everyone we know, and others of us were cheering on the single, solitary cherry tomato that made it through the season before the squirrel got it. We might have huge gardens, we might garden in community gardens or containers on our patio. But chances are, if we own or rent property, we have a plot of land that is technically within our care, and thus, whether or not we work that ground, we are caring for it - for better or for worse. And if you were to design the garden of your dreams, what would it be like? Would it be vegetable heavy or more flower oriented? Would you choose hardy native plants, or tropical beauties that need to be taken inside to be shielded from the harsh Canadian winter? Maybe you prefer shrubs and grasses for steady, consistent shapes and colour. How much does your imagined garden overlap with the garden in your care? Whether or not we work in a physical garden, we are gardeners. We have been entrusted with the care and keeping of a metaphorical garden - ourselves - our hearts and minds and bodies. These gardens are being shaped and formed by forces within us and outside of us, both chosen and bestowed upon us. As we get into the overall theme that will take us through this 16th season at Nexus, we’ll pay attention to who and what is shaping us, and how we’re being influenced. We will consider what we are becoming and why. What are we growing? How do we best cultivate our garden? So let’s roll up our sleeves, grab a trowel, see what’s growing, and consider what we want to do about it. See you Sunday for great music, coffee and “How Does Your Garden Grow?” 

For this coming Sunday, I want to start the new season by reminding us of who we are and why the mission and purpose of Nexus remain the same as always. To do that, I will need to tell you about a little pilgrimage I took this summer and about a room I unexpectedly found myself in. This Sunday is about one artist’s story and why that story still resonates with me (and I hope us) 135 years later. 

Now, to the final sermon of the year, A Beautiful Thing. In a world that prizes practicality, efficiency, and utility, the story of Mary pouring a small fortune’s worth of perfume on Jesus’ head, and his strong reaction to the gesture, stands in contrast to many of our cultural values.“She has done a beautiful thing to me,” Jesus says of the act. On this final Sunday of the season, I want to explore why beauty matters deeply in the economy of God, and how even awkward, seemingly wasteful gestures can carry the most lasting impact. This is a story not about doing what is right or efficient—but about doing what is beautiful.So, I hope you will join us as we reflect on the fleeting nature of time, the courage it takes to act on love, and the aroma that beautiful acts leave behind.

Friends, we have arrived at the penultimate episode of our season. I am excited for these last two sermons, and I hope they might set us up well for the summer before us.This week, my sermon is driven by this question: Is there a way to tune our minds so that they become better receivers? The question is driven by a sort of epiphany I had a few years ago. While our minds are most certainly thought generators, they may also be thought receivers. I cannot recall if it was our beloved Murray who shared this with me, or the author Dale Allison. Regardless, I am sure these ideas sound a bit confusing. Even still, if our minds are receiving (not just generating) thoughts, well, is there a way to tune into certain frequencies, while ignoring others? I am as confused as you about all of this, which is why we must embark on a most interesting journey together on Sunday.To puzzle this out, I have an assortment of tales and reflections to bring you: from rabbit ear antennas to Muhammad Ali, the Young and the Restless to Barack Obama, Crispers to the Tom Foolery ancient shepherds performed, and the young prophet Samuel hearing a voice to the Ivanpah Solar Power Facility (which happens to fry birds in mid-flight; mind you, that has no bearing on my sermon, but I thought you might like to know). Anywho, it is quite the trail we must travel together. 

Friends, I don’t have a lot of positive things to say about birds, but I will grant them this: some of their mating rituals are just hilariously fantastic (see flamingos or birds of paradise). The choreography is mesmerizing; their movements flamboyant and fun to watch. Of course, acts like these are not exclusive to birds. In the animal kingdom, from birds to elephants, rituals are found everywhere in nature.And yet, no creature is as ritualized as we Homo sapiens. Rituals are a human universal, with ceremonial practices serving many important functions.This Sunday, I want to take us into one of the most unique rituals of the Christian faith: baptism. Of course, back in the day, ritualistic washing or immersion rituals were present and practiced in various cultures and religions outside of Christianity. Even today, the “cold plunge” has echoes of a baptism ritual. Yet, by and large, baptism is almost an exclusively Christian ritual. Why? Why is it important? What does it mean and communicate?

Is it just me, or are lots of us more like Hobbits than is good for us? Valuing comfort, home, and a quiet life, living in our cozy hobbit-holes, eschewing adventure and exploration…nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things! Even if we don’t live like Hobbits (though that would probably be my dream), we might act like Hobbits in certain corners of our minds and hearts. And yet, our heart needs more; we are invited out of our comfort zone to more reality, more life, more connection, more freedom…more adventure. Does that sound appealing? Adventures are exciting, but they also include confusion, danger, wrestling with big questions, and when we return - if we return - we are not the same. Last week we faced our illusions which can get in the way of living fully and truly connecting with ourselves, others, and with God. By definition, all illusions pull us out of reality into an echo chamber of the stories we tell ourselves. The illusion of control, for instance, can cause us to cling to our comfortable and safe routines where we feel better able to control the outcome. As we wrap up our journey through Henri Nouwen’s book Reaching Out, we’ll now explore prayer as the opposite pole to illusion. Nouwen claims that as we move toward prayer, we will move away from illusion. This may feel backward at best or simply confusing, as our experiences in life in general and with prayer in particular may have us feeling ambivalent towards prayer. When life is chaotic and God feels far or nonexistent, prayer can seem pointless and empty, maybe even deeply disappointing. I wonder if seeing prayer as an adventure can invite us to explore prayer with fresh eyes, finding more than we thought was there at first. We may find more reality and more life. We may find something new to go on as we explore some themes around prayer such as experiencing God’s absence, paradox and confusing messages around prayer, and we’ll get a little practical with a way of praying that’s both simple and profound as we listen for our Prayer of the Heart. 

Remember that scene from the Matrix where Cypher enjoys a steak? He betrays his comrades and condemns humanity in order to be reinserted into the Matrix, to return to a false reality where he can live a life of luxury and to be "someone important, like an actor." In the scene, he delights in eating a perfectly cooked steak and wine, a stark contrast to the bland, unappetizing "goop" the crew of the Nebuchadnezzar eats in the real world. Cypher acknowledges that the steak isn't real, but he savors the sensation, stating, "I know this steak doesn't exist. I know that when I put it in my mouth, the Matrix is telling my brain that it is juicy and delicious. After nine years, you know what I realize? Ignorance is bliss."This line encapsulates his weariness with the harsh reality of the human resistance and his desire to return to the comfortable illusion of the Matrix, even though he knows it’s not reality. Cypher represents our very human temptation to choose comfort and illusion over harsh truth and freedom, even at the cost of betrayal. We can be more like him than we’d like to admit, tending to resist reality a lot of the time. We have whole collections of strategies against the real. We actually can be quite masterful at protecting our hearts and minds against harsh truths. We can live asleep, doom scrolling while avoiding our life, particularly if it’s uncomfortable or painful. In some ways, why wouldn’t we? We all do this, even when it doesn’t make sense. And we may be so good at it, we may not even realize we’re doing it. Nevertheless we’re invited to face the Real, and to turn to God as Ultimate Reality. As we wrap up this mini-series walking through Henri Nouwen’s book Reaching Out, we’re exploring the movement from illusion to prayer. So this week we’ll face our illusions, see how we’re pretty fond of them, and consider what we might do instead of remaining in their grip.

For this week, I want to piggyback off last Sunday and the work we did around mapping our loneliness. As we move into the terrain of our loneliness, I want to explore whether the reason we struggle with loneliness might be because of the quiet barriers we’ve built between ourselves and true intimacy?All of us carry a deep longing to be fully seen and still fully loved—a longing that goes all the way back to Eden. To navigate towards that, I want to draw from Jesus’ words in John 15 and invite us to reimagine intimacy not as a fleeting feeling or dramatic act of love, but as a lifelong pattern of laying ourselves down for one another in the ordinary, sometimes painfully boring, rhythms of real life.To that end, I want to walk us through three subtle, but powerful barriers that often keep us from closeness with others: the illusion that life should always be interesting, the weight of unspoken and unrealistic expectations, and the everyday irritations of difference. If you've ever felt like your relationships — romantic, platonic, or communal — fall short of what you hoped for, I hope this message can offer us a grace-filled path forward: not to escape or idealize, but to stay, die to ego, and find new life on the other side of disappointment.

Hey friends! When we asked the Nexus community to submit cards a while back around the sufferings we face in life, 32% of the cards mentioned struggles with loneliness. For a third of us, it would seem this is a sensitive spot.Loneliness is often treated as a personal failing or something to hide, but what if it’s actually a shared human experience? This Sunday, I want to unpack this quiet ache that so many of us carry but rarely name. Drawing on Scripture, personal stories, and cultural insights, we will explore five distinct types of loneliness—alienation, restlessness, fantasy, rootlessness, and psychological depression. Each one reveals something about who we are, what we long for, and how we were created to live in connection.Whether you're single or married, surrounded by people or feeling unseen, I hope this message offers a gentle guide for navigating the lonely places in your life—with truth, grace, and maybe even hope.

For Easter Sunday we launch into a theological conspiracy theory and the final chapter of Pilate’s part in the Jesus Path story. Then into the meaning of resurrection itself. I hope what we find will be both challenging, but also full of hope.

After a long winter and Lenten season, Holy Week is finally here! The culmination of the Jesus Path lies in front of us via Good Friday and Easter. We will be observing both Holy Days with services at 10:30am at St. Andrew's. We hope for these services that you might enter Iona Hall quietly and contemplatively.The cross has many meanings, but for this Good Friday, we will examine but one of those meanings. In doing so, I hope that it will bring our ‘Jesus before Pilate’ trial full circle in a meaningful way. I hope you will join us for our Good Friday journey that will take us from poetry, to song, to a Venice art museum, to the cards about suffering you filled out, to Lake Bled, to more songs and poetry, and of course, back to our old friend, Ivan Fydorovich and his case against Christ. Ultimately though, I hope it will take us to one of the most profound meanings of the cross.

In life, most decisions are routine and quickly forgotten. But sometimes, we’re faced with a choice so profound it alters the course of our lives—and maybe even echoes through history. This Sunday morning, we step into the tension of such a moment through the eyes of a man whose legacy hinges on a single verdict: Pontius Pilate. A Roman governor known for political savvy and self-preservation; Pilate didn’t set out to become infamous. But one Friday morning 2000 years ago, his desire to please the crowd outweighed his willingness to stand for truth.As we examine Pilate’s struggle to render a verdict in Jesus’ trial, we’ll discover something deeply unsettling and strangely familiar—ourselves. The hesitation, the fear of consequence, the subtle slide into compromise—it’s a mirror for our own moments of decision. Will we do what is right, or what is easy? Listen in as we wrestle with the question Pilate could never bring himself to fully answer: What is truth?