Chris Schoon

In many traditions, the Good Friday prayer of intercession serves as an annual opportunity to bring before God all the burdens and concerns of God’s people. As such, this congregational prayer is often long and wide-ranging. This prayer has been written for Good Friday in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic but can be adapted for other contexts. 

The creational nature of the garden-kingdom metaphor can help build visuals and object lessons for preaching, enrich the worship environment, and shape how a congregation walks through the big movements of the biblical story.

Confession is a good and fitting dimension of what we do in worshiping the One who is completely holy and righteous.

Mission unfolds in our homes and backyard gardens. Mission extends across generations and welcomes new people into our families. Mission seeks the well-being and shalom of the whole city. And this day-in, day-out mission of being God’s people includes praying for the city in which we live.

Though not prone to proof-texting, the missional church conversations in which I often find myself do have a few favorite passages that are often employed with a mic-drop emphasis. Jeremiah 29:4-7 is one of those go-to texts:

Tiffany. Sherman. Webster. Albion. Devil’s Punchbowl. Over the last 8 years, these and several of the other 100+ waterfalls in Hamilton, ON, have become my friends. Admittedly, I feel a bit weird describing these locations as friends, as if my social relationships now include inanimate objects. But quite honestly, I know these waterfalls better – and likely have more pictures from my time with them - than I do with 90% of the people I’m connected to via my social media accounts. 

One evening 15 or so years ago, as I stepped out onto our front porch, I encountered a surprise guest, or I should say, several surprise guests. An adult opossum with a few much younger ones sat quite comfortably in a row on the 3-feet high concrete ledge that wrapped around our porch. They were down on the right side, at the opposite end of where I had come out. They stared at me and I stared at them — all of us frozen in the uncertainty of what to do next.

On January 6 (at least in the Western Church), we celebrate Epiphany, marking the revelation of Jesus Christ to the whole world. The central biblical story is Matthew’s account of the magi (astrologers) coming from the East to worship Jesus.  

I am struck that Matthew includes this story of the broader world being led to Jesus. Perhaps, I should not be surprised. After all, Matthew opens his gospel by naming Jesus’ family history, including several of his grandmothers who came from other nations.

Last August, Zac Hicks posted on the Reformed Worship blog about a few metaphors related to mission and worship that have been meaningful to him. He referenced a couple metaphors from Ruth Meyers’ book Missional Worship, Worshipful Mission and then offered a metaphor of his own.

Throughout church history and across denominations, God’s people have given a privileged place within worship to the reading of the Ten Commandments. In my experience, the Ten Commandments have usually been included as a Call to Confession or as a Call to Holy Living. In the first instance, our attention is drawn toward how we have fallen short of God’s expectations. Our sin is exposed. In the second, we are called to live more faithfully in response to God’s grace in Jesus Christ.

I knew it would be an emotionally heavy week. Recently, I participated in a Mental Health First Aid training offered by Mental Health Canada. In a similar way to a Red Cross first aid course, this course is designed to equip first responders with information, skills, and resources needed to identify and provide care to someone experiencing a mental health crisis. I highly recommend this course for those who are in the Canadian context and can access it.

A Storied-People