“We are not simply waiting to see what happens to us.
We are participating in building the future we want to inhabit.”

As summer begins to give way to fall, I find myself returning to the rhythms of our life together: meetings and gatherings, programs beginning again, Communities of Faith planning for the months ahead, and all of us wondering, in one way or another, what this next season will bring in a world that feels particularly unsettled. 
 
Across the globe, we continue to witness war, violence, displacement and deepening division. The decisions and rhetoric coming from the Trump administration in the United States have implications well beyond its borders and contribute to an increasingly polarized public life. In Alberta, the referendum conversation is raising significant questions about identity, belonging and our life together as Canadians. Many of our communities continue to wrestle with affordability, climate change, loneliness and uncertainty about the future.

There is a lot of noise. 
 
This summer I had the privilege to spend several days at Taizé, an ecumenical Christian community in France where thousands of people, particularly young people, come from around the world to pray, worship, learn and live in community. The rhythm is simple. Three times each day, everything stops and the community gathers for prayer, scripture, silence and music. 
 
The music is intentionally repetitive. A few words, sung again and again, until somehow, you stop simply singing them and they settle into you. 
 
Weeks later, I find the music is still reverberating in my heart and mind. 
 
One of the songs I am resting with begins, “I will hear what God has to say,” and it sings of peace, love, truth and justice based on Psalm 85:8: I will hear what God has to say, a voice that speaks of peace. Yes, love and truth will meet, and justice and peace embrace. 

I have found myself returning to that opening line as a kind of spiritual practice. In the middle of a busy day, or when the news feels overwhelming, those words sometimes appear in my mind: I will hear what God has to say. 

And I find myself wondering: What is God saying to the world right now? What is God saying in the midst of polarization and fear? What is God saying when we are tempted to retreat into camps of people who think like us? What is God saying about the neighbour with whom we profoundly disagree? What is God saying about justice, peace and the kind of world we are creating together? 

And perhaps just as importantly: Are we quiet enough to hear?
Taizé reminded me that listening requires grounding. For me this summer, it has been music. For someone else it may be walking, prayer, scripture, time beside the ocean or in the mountains, gathering around a table, worshipping with a community of faith, or simply finding a few moments of silence.
I wonder what grounds you. What helps you move beneath the noise and remember who you are, whose you are, and the kind of person you want to be in the world?
Because grounding is not the same as withdrawing.
Our faith does not invite us to escape the realities around us. It grounds us so that we can enter them differently: with courage rather than fear, curiosity rather than certainty, compassion rather than contempt, and a willingness to seek justice and peace.
That is also how I am thinking about the work before us this fall.
Across Chinook Winds and Pacific Mountain Regions, there is a great deal happening. There will be opportunities for learning, worship, leadership development and connection. Communities of faith are exploring new ways of working together. We are experimenting with collaborative ministry, supporting lay and ministry personnel leadership, exploring what sustainable ministry might look like, and continuing the important conversations emerging through Toward 2035.
None of these things by themselves will determine the future of the church.
But together, they represent something important. We are not simply waiting to see what happens to us. We are participating in building the future we want to inhabit.
That means trying things. It means learning. It means sometimes letting go of ways of doing things that served us well in another time. It means noticing where life is emerging and investing our energy there. And it means remembering that we do this work together, not as isolated communities of faith, but as part of a wider church seeking to be faithful in a changing world.
So, as we ease into the fall, I hope you will take a look at the opportunities being offered across the Regions. Come to a gathering. Join a conversation. Try something new. Connect with people beyond your own community of faith. Bring your questions and your ideas. There is room for all of us to imagine and to work together for what comes next.
And amid all of the activity, I hope we will also make space to listen;
To listen to one another.
To listen to voices different from our own.
To listen to the communities around us.
And, beneath all the other voices competing for our attention, to listen for God.

I don’t pretend to know exactly what God is saying to the world in this moment. But I suspect it has something to do with refusing to give up on one another. With seeking justice without abandoning compassion. With choosing relationship over division. With making peace more than something we pray for, but something we practice.
Perhaps that is enough of a place to begin.
As we enter this new season together, may we find the practices that ground us, the courage to engage the world as it is, and the imagination to keep building toward the world God calls us to become.
I look forward to all that this fall will bring and to continuing this work together.

Blessings,
Treena Duncan
, Executive Minister
, Chinook Winds and Pacific Mountain Regional Councils