Advent always starts in the dark.

The nights are long, the world feels heavy, and peace can seem like a distant dream. But Advent invites us to lean in and expect something good — even when we can’t yet see it.

I love the story of a baker in a small Italian town who wakes before dawn during Advent. Not to make bread to sell — but bread to give away. Still warm, stacked outside his shop. No sign. No price. Just generosity.

One year, a young couple — financially stretched and expecting a child — received a loaf. That night, the woman went into labour as the wind howled around them. They tore small pieces of that bread to steady themselves through the night. By sunrise, they were holding a newborn. When the baker heard the news, he simply smiled and began kneading more dough.

That is Advent peace — quiet, stubborn love in the dark.

Our scriptures this week take us to the wilderness — where John the Baptist shouts, “Prepare the way!” Not in a palace. Not in a sanctuary. But in the wild places. The places where life feels uncertain.

Because wilderness isn’t where God abandons us — it’s where God forms us.

Isaiah says peace begins like a tiny green shoot sprouting from an old tree stump. Just when you think everything is cut down… something new begins. Small doesn’t mean insignificant. Small is often how God saves the world:

• one loaf of bread in the night
• one small kindness during grief
• one baby in Bethlehem

Peace is not passive. It’s practiced. It’s a choice we make again and again — to soften, to listen, to love courageously.

So this Advent:

Bake a little bread.
Reach out to one person.
Light one candle against the dark.

Because love is being born.
Peace is taking root.
And we — right where we are — get to help prepare the way.

Reflection Questions

1. Where in your life do you feel a “wilderness” right now, and what small step could you take to nurture peace there?

2. What is one simple act of kindness or hope you could offer someone this week, even quietly or anonymously?

By Rev. Michael Shewburg

(revmichaelshewburg@gmail.com)

God Is Still Shaping Us

Have you ever held a lump of clay and wondered what it could become? Right now, it’s shapeless—but with guidance, it can become a bowl, a cup, or even a tiny animal. In the same way, God is always shaping our lives.

Watching the Potter

In Jeremiah 18, God sends the prophet to a potter’s house. Jeremiah sees a vessel collapse—but the potter doesn’t throw it away. Instead, it’s reshaped into something new. God says, “That’s what I’m like with you” (Jeremiah 18:6). When life doesn’t go as planned, God reshapes us into something good, useful, and beautiful. Psalm 139 reminds us that God has been at work shaping us even before we existed.

Shaped for Purpose

Pottery isn’t just for display—it’s meant to serve. Likewise, God shapes us not for admiration but for purpose. Even when life collapses, God gathers us up and begins again. Our mistakes are not wasted; they can become something beautiful. Like kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold, God can turn our cracks into vessels of hope and love.

Living as Clay in God's Hands:

     Stay responsive: Keep your heart open to God and the world.

     Trust the process: God sees the final form even when we cannot.

     Be willing to begin again: Failure is never final in God's hands.

     Be active, not passive: Yielding to God means responding, not disappearing.

Even if life feels messy, God is still shaping, pressing, and pulling. The vessel that emerges--remade, strong, and purposeful--may be exactly what the world needs today.

 

Walking on Water Takes Trust — Balance Takes Practice
by Rev. Michael Shewburg

Summer has a way of changing our pace. We trade heavy coats for sandals, long meetings for long evenings, and we find ourselves outside more — on trails, by lakes, under the stars.

In Matthew 14, we find Peter doing something we might call the ultimate summer activity: walking on water. The waves are high, the wind is strong, the disciples are terrified…and Peter steps out of the boat toward Jesus. For a moment, he balances — full of trust. But then fear creeps in, and he begins to sink.

It’s a lot like learning to balance — on a bike, a paddleboard, or even just one foot. We don’t learn in the middle of a storm. We learn in steady moments, through small acts of practice. Peter’s courage on the water came after countless ordinary days with Jesus — listening, following, trusting.

Faith works the same way.
We can treat summer like an “off-season” for our spiritual lives, but it can also be a quiet training ground for the soul. What we practice now — a morning prayer, noticing beauty on a walk, sharing a meal in gratitude — anchors us for the storms later.

Peter also reminds us that worship isn’t just for inside church walls. He meets Jesus on the water, worships on the beach, prays on mountaintops. The sea, the shore, the wind — all become sacred space. That’s good news for us in summer, when God may be waiting for us in the canoe, around the campfire, or in the hush of a sunset.

But Peter always comes back to the boat. Faith is deeply personal — but it’s also something we share. We meet God in the quiet of nature, but we grow deeper when we return to community, to be strengthened, challenged, and reminded we’re not alone.

So this summer, I invite you to ask: What small thing will I do to grow my faith? Not out of guilt, but with intention. One steady rhythm. One simple practice.

Anchor yourself now, so when the waves rise, you’ll know where to turn. And if you do start to sink? Remember — Peter did too. And Jesus still had him.

And He’s got you.

Prayer to Carry With You:
Holy One, still my soul. Anchor me in Your deep love.
Open my eyes to Your presence — in this day, in these faces, in the quiet within.
Here I am. Here You are. Lead me deeper into Your peace.

Rev. Michael Shewburg (he/him),  Minister - Wesley United Church, Cambridge, ON

Angels and Benevolent Spirits in the Sanctuary 

by Michelle Hogan

Dear Congregation,

Though this has happened many times in the past eight years that our Sanctuary has been open on Saturday mornings, over the past year, we have been blessed to hear from more than a few visitors who have shared profound experiences within our Sanctuary. More than a dozen people have expressed that they felt the presence of Angels and benevolent Spirits while spending time here. These accounts are both moving and humbling, and they remind us of the sacredness of the space we have nurtured together as a community of faith.

Recognizing the Sacred Atmosphere

The Sanctuary is a place where we gather to worship, pray, and seek the presence of God. These visitors’ experiences of encountering Angels or Spirits can be seen as a testament to the divine peace and holiness that fills this space. As Psalm 91:11 says, "For He will command His Angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways." This verse reminds us that God’s messengers are always at work, offering guidance, protection, and comfort.

A Testament to Our Faith and Efforts

The Sanctuary’s spiritual atmosphere is a reflection of the faith, prayers, and dedication of this congregation. It is your collective worship, service, and love that make our church a place where others can feel the presence of the divine so profoundly. These experiences are not just about the space itself but about the spirit we cultivate here as a church family.

Encouragement for Reflection

Hearing these stories invites us to reflect on our own experiences of God’s presence. While some may feel the presence of Angels or Spirits, others may sense peace, love, or guidance in different ways. Let us remain open to the many forms through which God might choose to reveal Himself to us.

Extending an Invitation

As we continue to welcome visitors, let us embrace these accounts as a reminder of our calling to be a light in the world. Encourage those who visit and those within our congregation to share their spiritual experiences. Together, we can celebrate the ways God is working among us.

Let us give thanks for the blessing of this holy space and for the ways it touches the lives of so many. May we continue to cherish and nurture this sacred environment, always keeping our hearts open to the presence of God.

Finally, in light of this wonderful news, I haver a challenge for all Members of our Congregation. We ask that each Member spend time becoming a Sanctuary Tour Guide. The purpose of this is manifold but the most important points are;

• learn about the history of our Church, its Congregation, what happened and when, what it stands for and how we welcome Visitors.
• possibly witness some of these Visitors during their experiences.
• opening new conversations and possibly discovering new Members / Volunteers.

Beyond this, showing that our doors and our Hearts are open to our Community can only have positive benefits for everyone.

In faith and gratitude,
Michelle Hogan
Sanctuary Tour Guide

This is my final pastoral email to you. This coming Sunday will be my final service at Wesley as your minister, and then I will move to become the minister of Marshall Memorial United Church in Ancaster. 
 
Goodbyes are difficult.  Many of you have been telling me this as we have talked together, and I know it myself. Over these four + years (or almost six years if you were at First United before this), you have got inside me. Your joys have been my joys, and your sorrows my sorrows. I have walked with you through times of celebration, times of questioning, times of grief, and times of confusion. Thank you for the privilege of being your minister through all of these times. I will continue to cherish our time together, even after I am gone, and will continue to hold you in my thoughts and prayers. 
 
Watershed moments define our lives. They are locked into our memory and other parts of our lives are all remembered in relationship to them. People sometimes talk about what they were doing when they heard that planes hit the twin towers, or what it was like when the announcement came that WW2 was over, or where they were when they heard the news that Princess Diana had been killed. For me right now, it feels like my ministry at Wesley will always be associated with the global COVID-19 pandemic.  It has so affected my ministry here, that it is hard to remember our church life before that. I have not been able to visit you in your homes or in the hospital as I once did; I have not been able to reach out to touch your hand or embrace you; I have not been able to lead worship with you in front of me (until the last month); I have not been able to lead small groups or meet with you as church committees around a table; I have not been able to gather with you for church luncheons or special celebrations; I have not been able to lead memorial services where we all gather together to grieve and stand in solidarity with those facing loss. But that is not the end of the story.  We needed to learn how to meet online, and reach out through the internet and telephone, and make decisions without being physically together. We needed to learn how to reach out to make sure no one was alone, even though we could not be together physically. We needed to learn how to offer worship virtually, and we needed to learn how to worship together as we sat in our own homes in front of a computer screen.
 
I am reminded of the hymn “Spirit of Gentleness” where it says: Spirit of restlessness, stir me from placidness…. At times it may not have felt like a blessing, but in retrospect, this cataclysmic event has forced us to move beyond our usual way of doing things, to rethink we who are, and to explore new directions. We are different than we were before. We are scarred, but somehow more vibrant. We have a different resolve and a different commitment. I wonder if God has been trying to show us something through the pandemic? That is not to say that God caused this to happen, but rather that God often works through life events. We have been stirred from our placidness.  We have moved beyond the same old way of doing things, and have begun to envision things in new ways. 
 
For me, after 33 years of ordained ministry, it comes as second nature to carry out the responsibilities and tasks of ministry. Yet, the pandemic turned these things upside down, and I had to learn new ways to be a minister. It was challenging, and yet it also became a blessing for me, for I was able to explore how to reach out to you in new ways, rethinking worship and experimenting with different creative ways to approach worship.This has been life giving for me, and I hope it has been for you as well.
 
There is no going back. We have entered into new territory. We have extended our reach through the miracle of the internet, so that far more people worship with us each week.  We have moved beyond the usual and the way things have always been done, to explore new ideas and new possibilities.  And we have been in this long enough that this thinking outside the box has become normalized for us.  We journey into the future not as a museum –  focused on remembering the past and what we once were, but as a church – a vibrant and transforming presence, engaged with changing life around us, seeking to be in dialogue with the current reality, seeking to be Gods hands and feet in this time and this place.
 
Change is a constant in our lives. We give thanks for what has been, and we look forward to what will be. The sacred story that comes to mind for me is the story of Moses who led the Israelites through the desert and toward the promised land. But Moses was not the one who would lead them into the promised land. A new leader by the name of Joshua arose among them, who would guide them through the next stage of life. And that doesn’t mean that the road was be easy. Even in the promised land there were many new challenges to face. 
 
I have been your spiritual leader through this wilderness time of pandemic. My prayers are with you as future leaders will arise who will journey with you into God’s future. May God bless you and your continued ministry in this place.
 
~Rev. Keith
In solidarity and toward Shalom/Salem