(N.T. Wright – Lent for Everyone: Matthew, Year A, 2011)

“Easter is a day to put everything upside down and inside out,” writes Bishop N.T. Wright.

This is Good News! In a time in our history when it seems that those in positions of power are too often misusing authority at the expense of the vulnerable, this gives us hope! But, as Christians, we know that this hope comes at a cost.

The cost is the Cross. Jesus, the very wisdom and power of God, embraced what the world despises: weakness, suffering, and apparent defeat. He stood with the poor and the oppressed. He allowed the powers of this age to do their worst. On Good Friday, it looked as though the strong had triumphed and the upside-down kingdom had been crushed.

Yet on the third day, God overturned everything. The tomb was empty. The crucified one was raised in glory. What the world called foolishness proved wiser than human wisdom. What the world called weakness was stronger than human strength. The last became first, and death itself was put to death.

This is the heart of Easter: resurrection is not the denial of suffering but its transformation. The same God who raised Jesus from the dead is at work even now. Mourning is turned into dancing, despair into hope, and this broken world into the new Creation.

My friends, we are Easter people. We are called to live this upside-down reality in our own time and place. That means following the example of Jesus, who chose service over status, generosity over greed, and love even for those who oppose us. It means standing with the vulnerable, not because we are strong, but because we have met the one whose strength is made perfect in weakness.

In the days and weeks ahead, may you know the presence of the Risen Christ who meets us in the ordinary and the unexpected. May the joy of his resurrection fill you with new life and send you out as witnesses to the new thing God is doing.

Alleluia! Christ is risen. He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

In the days and weeks ahead, may you know the presence of the Risen Christ who meets us in the ordinary and the unexpected. May the joy of his resurrection fill you with new life and send you out as witnesses to the new thing God is doing.

Alleluia! Christ is risen. He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

+ Samuel, Eastern Newfoundland & Labrador

The post Inside Out and Upside Down: The Radical Logic of Easter appeared first on Anglican Life.

I remember a funny episode of the cartoon ‘The Simpsons’ where Homer ignores his car’s flashing check engine light by taping over it, only for the engine to fail spectacularly moments later.

Our spiritual lives are like a vehicle’s check engine indicator. Just as a car’s dashboard lights up when something is not working correctly, our spiritual lives may also have warning signs or signals when something is not right. These warning signs can be feelings of spiritual emptiness, or a sense of disconnection from God and others. Lent is a good time for us to check our spiritual engines.

Spiritual renewal means deepening our relationship with God and strengthening our commitment to following Christ. This can be done through regular practices such as prayer, meditation, worship, Bible study, and service to others. Spiritual renewal is particularly emphasized during the season of Lent, which is an intentional time of preparation for Easter. This might mean attending Lenten worship, participating in our online Lenten reflections, or volunteering at local food banks or outreach projects.  It is about taking on something extra in your spiritual practice to help focus and strengthen your discipleship.

Lent helps us refocus on the ‘why’ of all we do and are as Christians. Before we can do anything in the Church, the first step is to look at ourselves and ask: How is my relationship with God? In other words, ‘Do I love Jesus, and how do I show Jesus’ love in my own life?’ These are personal questions, but ones that are so important.

We are all called to have a personal faith in Jesus Christ, but while our faith is deeply personal, we are called to share it outwardly. As Christians, we can embrace our personal relationship with God in Jesus Christ and renew our baptismal faith regularly. When we do so—when we become active participants with God—we see our churches and communities transformed into inclusive, supportive, and non-judgmental centres of God’s love and grace. As Anglicans, we are called to follow the example of Christ and to seek to live out his teachings in our daily lives (see, for example, Matthew 25:35-40 on caring for those in need). This means being faithful to God and one another, and showing love and compassion to those in need. It also means being willing to confront the sin and injustice in our lives and the world around us. This is about deepening our relationships with others within the Church and those on the margins.

When that pesky check engine light comes on in our vehicle, we know we will eventually have to take it to the garage to get it fixed. Our spiritual check engine light is no different. We can do this spiritual check-up during this Lenten season by looking at what we are called to be and to do as baptized Christians. If a core value is deepening our relationship with God and one another, then this needs to be at the very centre of the life and ministry of every Christian.

So, if your spiritual check engine light is flashing, I invite you to use this Lent as a tune-up for your faith. Let us look honestly at our spiritual lives, and we may go deeper with God and one another.

Lenten blessings,

Bishop Sam Rose

The post Check Your Spiritual Engine appeared first on Anglican Life.

Bethlehem’s streets, then and now, are simple, dusty, ordinary. Today, those streets, along with so many in Gaza and across the Holy Land, carry the weight of war’s shadow. Families grieve, and their homes lie in ruin. The cry for peace echoes through sacred places. I think of the people there caught in conflict’s pain, and my heart aches. Yet, it’s in such places, in the mess and hurt, that God chose to show up. A baby in a manger, born in a troubled land under an empire’s rule—that’s where the everlasting Light broke through.

This Christmas, as we pray for peace in Gaza and the Holy Land, I’m reminded that God doesn’t wait for perfect moments to meet us. The Christ Child came into a struggling world, and He continues to do so. Whether it’s the war in the Holy Land, the personal battles we face, or the divisions pulling at our communities, the darkness can feel heavy. But Bethlehem’s story tells us no darkness is too deep for God’s Light. Jesus’ birth, then in a stable, now in our hearts, is God’s promise to walk with us, hold our fears, and kindle hope.

The hymn speaks of “the hopes and fears of all the years.” In the Holy Land, people hope for an end to violence, for days when children can play without fear. Here at home, we hope for healing in our families, strength for tough times, and a more peaceful world. But we also carry fears of what tomorrow holds and fear for those suffering in Gaza or fear our efforts fall short. Christmas says these hopes and fears find a home in Jesus. In Him, God embraces our joys and worries, wrapping them in love that never fades.

So, what do we do? As Christians, we’re called to carry this Light, especially now. I think of Mary, saying “yes” to God despite uncertainty, or Joseph, trusting God’s call through doubts. Their courage pushes us to act. To pray boldly for peace in Gaza and support those hurting as we stand with our brothers and sisters in the Holy Land.

In October 2025, a glimmer of that Light has broken through. Israel and Hamas agreed to a ceasefire, including the release of all living Israeli hostages in exchange for Palestinian prisoners, an immediate surge of humanitarian aid, and steps toward rebuilding Gaza. While challenges remain for lasting peace, this fragile pause offers hope for families to heal and children to find safety and a reminder that persistent prayer and diplomacy can invite God’s reconciling work.

I’ve also seen this Light in our diocese. In our parishes, you’re opening doors to feed the hungry, sitting with the lonely, and reaching out to those who’ve lost much. These acts, big or small, are like candles in the dark, echoing Bethlehem’s star. I think of parishioners packing Christmas hampers or quiet prayers for peace in war-torn places. Each is a spark of hope, a sign Christ’s Light lives in us.

We carry this Light when we share Christmas’ Good News, not just with words but with lives that show God is near. From our pews to Gaza’s streets, the message holds: God is with us, in joy and pain. And we carry it by clinging to hope, even when it’s hard. The violence in the Holy Land, the struggles here, don’t have the final word. Christ’s Light does.

My prayer this Christmas is that we’ll be people who shine with that everlasting Light. Let’s keep praying and working for peace in Gaza and the Holy Land, trusting God’s love can transform the darkest places. May Bethlehem’s peace, born in a land of promise and pain, fill your hearts this Holy Season.

The post The Everlasting Light appeared first on Anglican Life.

Recently, I was blessed to witness such a moment of divine connection, a story that began in 2016 with young people in Bay de Verde, Newfoundland, and found its way to a family from Montreal visiting the shores of Nova Scotia.

In 2016, four young girls from the community of Bay de Verde crafted a message together. They sealed their words in a bottle with joy and curiosity, and entrusted them to the Atlantic’s waves. They could not have imagined that their message would surface nearly a decade later, carrying a spark of connection across time and place.

This past summer, a person from Montreal, who was vacationing with family in Nova Scotia, discovered the bottle bobbing along the shoreline. Inside was the note, penned by the young girls, brimming with their hopes and a touch of Newfoundland’s warmth. Moved by this find, the Montreal visitor reached out, seeking to learn more about the message’s origins. Through Facebook, I had the privilege of helping connect them with the now-grown youth from Bay de Verde, fostering a conversation that bridged years and provinces in a moment of shared wonder.

This story stirs my heart, for it mirrors the nature of prayer. Like a bottle cast upon the sea, prayer is an act of faith, released without certainty of where it will land or when it will be answered. We offer our prayers to God, trusting they are carried by the Spirit to where they are needed most. The girls in Bay de Verde sent their message in 2016, unaware it would wait nearly a decade to be found. So too, God answers our prayers in God’s time, often in ways we least expect, weaving connections that reveal God’s presence.

In our Anglican tradition, we are called to be communities of hope, reflecting God’s kingdom in our openness to God’s surprises. The bottle’s journey from Newfoundland to Nova Scotia, touching a family from Montreal, shows how God uses small acts to create ripples of grace. It reminds us that our prayers, like that message, may travel far beyond our sight, answered in moments and places we cannot foresee.

As I reflect on this, I hear Jesus’ words in Matthew 18:20: “For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” The girls of 2016, the family in Nova Scotia, and the connection forged across time were united not by chance but by God’s hand, crafting a sacred moment of discovery.

May we, like those young girls, continue to cast our prayers and acts of faith into the world, trusting God to guide them. Let us remain open to God’s unexpected answers, knowing that even a simple message in a bottle can carry hope across years and shores, building communities of love and wonder.

The post A Message in A Bottle: God’s Unexpected Answers appeared first on Anglican Life.

Small churches, like those in Southeast Labrador, embody a simplicity and closeness that call to mind the earliest followers of Jesus. In the Book of Acts, we read of believers who “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer” (Acts 2:42). These were not huge assemblies in large cathedrals but modest gatherings, often in homes, where faith was nurtured through shared meals, heartfelt conversation, and mutual support. Today, as I travel across our vast diocese, I see this same spirit alive in our small congregations. Whether it’s sharing a cup of tea in a parishioner’s home or offering prayer beside someone’s sickbed, these intimate moments weave a beautiful and resilient fabric of church community.

The beauty of these churches lies not in their size but in their capacity to care for one another in Christ. In a small congregation, no one is a stranger for long. Faces become familiar, stories are known, and joys and struggles are carried together. When a family faces hardship—be it illness, loss, or the challenges of life in remote Labrador—their church rallies around them. A casserole appears at the door, a visit is made, a prayer is said. This is the Body of Christ at work, each member supporting the other, just as Paul describes in 1 Corinthians 12:26: “If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honoured, every part rejoices with it.” In these acts of love, small churches mirror the early Christians, who “shared everything they had” and ensured “there were no needy persons among them” (Acts 4:32, 34).

Visiting the Parish of Southeast Labrador, I am struck by the resilience of these communities. Spread across rugged terrain and often separated by miles of coastline, the eight congregations remain united in purpose and faith. They gather in humble buildings, weathered by decades of wind and snow, and yet these spaces are alive with worship and warmth. It’s a reminder that the church is not defined by its architecture but by the people who fill it with their devotion. Like the early church, which thrived without ornate structures, these small congregations prove that faith flourishes where love and care abound.

There is a blessing, too, in the intimacy of worship in a small church. Hymns are sung by voices that know each other well, with prayers shaped by the community’s specific needs, and the Eucharist becomes truly a family meal. As a bishop, I find great joy in these visits, sitting with faithful people who welcome me into their homes and their lives.
Over a cup of tea, we talk about the weather, the fishery, and the hope they find in Christ. These conversations are holy moments and recall the fellowship of those first disciples who broke bread together and praised God.

In a time when so much pulls our attention away from each other and toward isolation, small churches are a testament to the power of community in Christ. They remind us that the kingdom of God is often found in the ordinary. With its eight faithful congregations, the Parish of Southeast Labrador is just one example of this truth. Across our Diocese and beyond, small churches continue to shine as beacons of care, modelling the early Christian community in ways that are both timeless and deeply needed today.

As I left Southeast Labrador, I carried with me renewed gratitude for these small but mighty outposts of faith. They are a gift to our diocese and a living witness to the beauty of a church that cares for one another in Christ. May we all learn from their example, cherishing the bonds that unite us and trusting that, in every cup of tea and every prayer, the Spirit is at work, drawing us closer to God and to each other.

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As we gather in our parishes this Easter, our hearts are lifted in joyous celebration of the Resurrection of our Lord. Easter is the heartbeat of our faith: light overcomes darkness, hope triumphs over despair, and life emerges victorious from the tomb. We greet each other with the ancient proclamation: “The Lord is risen! The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!”

This winter has, as ever, tested our resolve here in Eastern Newfoundland and Labrador. The winds have howled, the snow has blanketed our communities, and yet, beneath it all, the promise of spring has stirred. Easter arrives as God’s resounding “Yes” to that promise—a reminder that new life is breaking forth even in the coldest and darkest of times. Just as the ice cracks and the waters flow once more, so too does the stone roll away, revealing the empty tomb and the risen Christ, who meets us where we stand.

In our diocese, this Easter holds special meaning as we continue to “Set Sail” together, charting the course for Christ’s Church as outlined in our strategic plan. This journey calls us to deepen our relationships—with God, with one another, and with the world around us—and to transform our discipleship into lives of new life that break forth in witness and compassionate service. We are challenged to renew our stewardship, with specific care for God’s creation. And through engaging in partnerships, we show God’s transformative love by reaching out to others.

I know that some approach this Easter with heavy hearts. For some, this season comes amidst grief, uncertainty, or struggle—whether it be the loss of a loved one, the challenges of daily life, the anxiety of political uncertainty, or the worries of a changing climate. To you, I offer the promise of the Easter Gospel: Christ has walked through the valley of the shadow of death and emerged victorious. The Risen Christ walks with you now, bearing your burdens and illuminating your path with the light of his presence.

As Anglicans in this diocese, we are a people of the cross and the resurrection. Our tradition reminds us that these two truths are inseparable: suffering and glory, sacrifice and renewal. In our worship, we proclaim this mystery through the Eucharist, where we encounter the risen Lord in bread broken and wine poured out. In your parishes and homes, I encourage you to draw near to this sacred meal, find strength in its grace, and let it shape us into a community of hope and compassion.

Let us also remember that Easter calls us to be Easter people, not just for one day but every day. The risen Christ sent his disciples into the world, and so he sends us—to our neighbours, our communities, and the strangers in our midst. In a diocese as diverse as ours, from urban centres to remote outports, we have countless opportunities to embody the love of the Risen Lord. Whether through advocacy for justice or caring for God’s creation, let us be active witnesses to the resurrection in all we do, bringing hope and healing to a world in need.

As your bishop, I thank you for your faithfulness, resilience, and commitment to the Gospel. Your steadfastness in the face of challenges is a testament to the power of the Resurrection. I pray that this Easter season fills you with the joy of Christ’s victory and the courage to be his disciples. May the Holy Spirit, who raised Jesus from the dead, dwell richly in our parishes and in our hearts, renewing us for the journey ahead.

+Samuel, Eastern Newfoundland & Labrador

The post Easter: A Message of Hope and Renewal appeared first on Anglican Life.

As we all remember, the winter of 2022 was harsh, with many homeless individuals seeking refuge on our streets and open spaces. The Cheers & Jeers section of The Telegram shed light on the absence of warming centres in our province, particularly the City of St. John’s. This prompted me to send a simple yet urgent email to city clergy with one line: “What can we do about this?”

Our city clergy met to discuss this challenge. From that conversation came the idea of a mobile unit supporting marginalized populations and people experiencing homelessness. Since that time, there have been several developments. At our request, Metrobus agreed to donate a bus from its retiring fleet for this purpose. Multiple conversations have occurred with potential community partners who decided this is a much needed asset, complementing existing programming.

The Mission Statement for this endeavour is: to provide compassion to street-involved individuals through a mobile wellness platform. We will form partnerships with other like-minded stakeholders and sponsors to provide integrated services. We aim to improve the well-being and quality of life of those in need, fostering a community where we respect the dignity of every human being.

From our engagement with the community, we have determined that while homelessness is more visible in the downtown core, it is prevalent in every nook and cranny of our province, and people come from outlying areas to access services in St. John’s. There is no part of our diocese that the homelessness crisis has not impacted. This mobile wellness platform will help meet the needs of people from all of our communities in Newfoundland & Labrador. We hope to provide coffee & tea, a simple hot meal, basic health care services, housing support, hygiene products, basic clothing items, etc.

For this initiative to succeed, it requires the active participation and support of every parish in our diocese. Whether knitting mittens, making soup or muffins, pouring coffee, driving the bus, or contributing to the operating costs, every Anglican has a role to play. 

In Matthew Chapter 25, Jesus reminds us that serving the least of these is serving Christ himself.

Our vision is a society where no individual is left behind or overlooked and where marginalized populations receive the care and support they deserve. Through our mobile wellness platform, we will strive to create a safe and welcoming space for street-involved individuals to access holistic services, build connections, and regain hope for a brighter future. Together, we envision a community where wellness is inclusive and

where every person is valued and supported on their journey to health and healing.

For more information, please contact:

•The Ven. Amanda Taylor:
stmarksrector@bellaliant.com

•The Rev’dCanon Gail MacDonald:
reverendgail@nl.rogers.com

•The Rev’d Fred Marshall:
fredjmarshall@gmail.com

In Christ’s love,
Bishop Sam

The post Announcing A New Diocesan Ministry Initiative—Mobile Ministry Bus appeared first on Anglican Life.

As we enter the Christmas season, we are reminded of the light that entered the world with Jesus’s birth. In times of darkness and despair, Jesus’ arrival brought hope and the promise of salvation.

Like many children, I was terrified of the darkness as a boy. I remember focusing on that little light in the corner of my tiny bedroom. If that little light ever went out, I would panic if there was a power outage, because I felt alone and was terrified that I would never be found in the darkness. That’s what the darkness can do to you—make you feel alone and lost, with no hope for a way out. But as soon as that little light came back on, it was a sign that I was not alone, not lost, but could see a way in the darkness. When I saw the light, I knew it would be ok.

Just as the flame of a candle can chase away the darkness in a room, so too does the light of Jesus chase away the darkness in our lives. When we welcome Jesus into our hearts, we are filled with his love and grace, and we can overcome the struggles and challenges we face because we no longer meet them alone.

In the Gospel of John, it is written that “in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (John 1:4-5).

Jesus says, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.” (John 8:12) This simple yet powerful statement reveals the true nature of Jesus and his role in our lives.

But the light of Jesus is not just for us as individuals. It is also for the world around us. As followers of Jesus, we are entrusted with the sacred duty of sharing this light with others and bringing hope and healing to those in the darkness. When you see that light, remember you can be that light.

By being the light, we expose the darkness in our society. We see the darkness of poverty and inequality—the darkness of exclusion, injustice, prejudice, and discrimination. Shining a light on these issues can bring awareness and understanding to them and be a first step towards addressing them. We can be a light that helps create a brighter, more equitable future for all. We can advocate for policies and programs that address poverty and inequality and promote inclusivity and fairness for everyone. All of us can work together to create a society that is fair and just for everyone.

We can do this by showing love and compassion to those in need. This might mean reaching out to a struggling neighbour, volunteering at a local charity, or simply offering a kind word to someone hurting. By doing these things, we embody the light of Jesus in the world and bring hope to those in need.

There is no doubt that our world is currently facing many challenges and difficulties. From war, political instability, and economic uncertainty to the ongoing threat of climate change and the long-term effects of the pandemic, many issues are causes for concern. However, it is essential to remember that humanity has faced and overcome adversity in the past, and with God, we will do so again.

In the nativity scene, we see the Christ Child lying in the manger—the light of the world in the face of a vulnerable baby. But that same light shines in the tent encampments, the homeless shelters, the hospital emergency rooms, the war-torn cities in the Holy Land and Ukraine, and so many other places. It shines because no darkness can ever overtake it.

Jesus, the light of the world, shines brightly in a world filled with darkness and despair. He is the source of hope and joy, offering us a path out of the darkness and into the light. When you see the light, you can be the light.

As we celebrate Christmas, let us remember the light that came into the world with the birth of Jesus. Let us allow that light to shine in our hearts and lives so that we can be a beacon of hope and light.

+Samuel, Eastern NL

The post See The Light. Be The Light appeared first on Anglican Life.

However, many don’t have these comforts—those who didn’t wake up in a warm bed or a comfortable home, those who had nothing to eat, and those who couldn’t come to a church building. Shouldn’t they also have reasons to be thankful?

Thanksgiving is not just about celebrating our achievements and being grateful for what we have accomplished. If that were the case, what about those whose lives are filled with more failures than successes? What if all their hard work never pays off? Or if they find themselves homeless and sleeping in a tent one day? Should they be less thankful?

If Thanksgiving revolves around being thankful for what we have achieved on our own—our merits, business, or connections—more than for what God has done and is doing, then we have sidelined God. Our hearts can quickly become proud, and we may forget God, believing that our successes and achievements are solely the result of our strength and ability.

In an episode of The Simpsons, Bart Simpson sarcastically said in his grace before a meal: “Dear God, we paid for all this ourselves, so thanks for nothing.” Though it may seem humorous or startling, there are times when we’ve shared Bart Simpson’s perspective. There are times when we’ve felt that our actions deserved special credit or recognition from God and others; times when our pride hindered us from recognizing God in our lives and others.

Last year, I visited a homeless community living in tents on Confederation Hill in St. John’s. They advocated for proper housing and support, so we provided them with supplies like blankets, pillows, water, etc.

I spoke to several members who shared their hopes of finding housing. When I asked about shelters, they expressed concerns about safety and referred to them as, “just a band-aid solution that doesn’t address the real needs.”

“Having a home is about having human dignity,” one man told me.

This reminded me of our Baptismal Covenant promise: “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being?”

In the Bible, Jesus spoke to someone who wished to follow him and become a disciple. The man said to Jesus, “Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go.” Jesus replied, “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head” (Matthew 8:19–20)

Jesus and his disciples did not have a home to live in during their ministry. Instead, they relied on the hospitality and generosity of others, staying with friends, supporters, and even strangers.

Consider that. The Lord we love and follow was homeless.

Homelessness is a multifaceted issue. When individuals experience homelessness, their fundamental human rights and dignity are often compromised. Everyone deserves to be treated with respect and empathy, regardless of their housing situation. Homelessness does not diminish an individual’s worth or right to be treated with dignity. By acknowledging the inherent worth of every individual and ensuring access to basic needs, supportive services, and equal opportunities, we can work towards restoring human dignity for those experiencing homelessness.

I gained significant insights during my visit to the tent community on Confederation Hill. I thank those who spoke to me and asked for my prayers. I assured them that I would pray. However, there is much more that we need to do to support those who, like Jesus, have nowhere to lay their head.

Our central act of worship is celebrating the Lord’s Supper—the Holy Eucharist. “Eucharist,” in Greek, means “thanksgiving.” It involves taking the food that God has blessed us with, our daily bread and wine, and offering it as a sacrifice.

When we make sacrifices to God, when we give of our time, when we offer our wealth, when we return our daily bread to him, this is not something that we do for God’s benefit but for ourselves: we force ourselves to return to right relationship—to the true thankfulness that is the only perspective from which we can know God.

So, this Thanksgiving, let us express gratitude to God and extend gratitude to the people around us.  As the church—God’s people—we need to deepen our relationships with God and one another. Doing so allows us to see beyond ourselves and acknowledge the blessings we receive from others. It is an opportunity to express our appreciation to those who have impacted our lives. It is important to remember that we are not meant to journey through life alone. We are interconnected, and we need one another. Pray for those who are homeless, and may we use the resources God has given us to help.

The post Thanksgiving appeared first on Anglican Life.

”The Church is not what it used to be.”

“There’s no one going to Church like they used to.”

”The Church is dying.”

Sound familiar? And it is hard to argue against the truth in each sentiment. Indeed, as a Bishop, I agree that the Church is not what it was, and that fewer people belong to the church community. Some church buildings have closed, and others will end in the future. As the population ages, particular churches will be “last generation” communities with no younger people left.

As the old Newfoundland expression goes, when it comes to the Church, it looks like “She’s gone b’ys, she’s gone!”

The Church, like any other institution, has seen changes over the years. While some may argue that the Church is dying, it may be more appropriate to say that it is evolving. In the teachings of Jesus, there is a consistent theme of new life and resurrection, which can be applied to the current state of the Church.

Jesus spoke about the concept of new life and resurrection to emphasize the idea of transformation and growth. This idea can be seen in how the Church has adapted to modern times. While some traditional practices may be fading away, new ways of connecting with people and spreading the message of love and compassion are emerging.

One such way the Church is connecting with people and living the example of Christ’s love is the Thrift Store in the Parish of St. Lawrence, Portugal Cove. The leadership of the parish looked at ways that the Church could reach out and serve the community as both human and financial resources were declining.

The St. Lawrence Thrift Store was created to raise funds for large-scale outreach projects. It supports both the parish and the community. Up to 50% of all funds raised go to the general fund. The store raises the church’s profile as an active community partner. The community benefits from a local place to send items, a scholarship, and a new place to shop every Saturday. The parish food bank has also benefited, as the parish can maintain necessary inventory levels to serve those in need. Income from the thrift store has given the parish the luxury to explore new initiatives for the community.

Instead of focusing on the decline of certain aspects of the Church, it may be more helpful to shift the perspective toward the opportunities for renewal and revival. Just as Jesus brought new life to those he encountered, the Church has the potential to rejuvenate itself by embracing change and innovation. This is what the church in St. Lawrence, Portugal Cove, has done and so many other churches are exploring similar ways.

While some parts of being the Church will end, we know, as Christians, that our faith is built on the foundation of the resurrection. Ultimately, the teachings of Jesus remind us that death is not the end but rather a transition to new beginnings. The Church, too, can experience a resurrection of sorts by staying true to its core values while adapting to the needs of a changing world. As long as the message of love, hope, and redemption remains at the centre, the Church will continue to have a meaningful impact on the lives of believers.

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