redefining church

I've always believed that the church is not a building. The church is not mortar and stone. The church is people.

Something's happening to that belief, though. It's evolving a bit. I think it started when I began walking home from work. My path takes me by my church. It doesn't have to; I want it to. There are a seemingly infinite number of routes I could choose, most of which would not involve going by the church. I walk past it everyday because - for reasons I am at a loss to explain - it brings me joy to do so. Weird, eh? Why does walking by my church make me so happy?

Yesterday I was talking to one of the guys I work with. He's getting married in two weeks. I asked him where the ceremony would be held. I don't know why I asked; seemed polite to take an interest, I guess. 'St Andrews', he responded. 'It's on King Street, just over that way a bit'.

A jolt of excitement went through me. 'That's my church!' Well, it's not really. We're not part of St Andrews; we just rent the space from them. Why then did the mention of the building have such an effect on me?

I've been thinking about these two obviously related questions. For some reason, I regard the space itself as sacred.

I'm not ready to jump to any conclusions. I think I need to contemplate this for a while.
- contributed by shannon clarke

god in a leaf cell

The other day i got to spend some time in a science lab. It was a Forestry lab at UofT. We got to do that thing that everyone does in high-school where you get to dye a leaf cell with some purple stuff and view it under a microscope. It not only amazed and baffled me all over again, it also made me see again how cool God's amazing designs are. Location of this moment...