What is it Going to Take?

We live in Nanaimo, BC, a picturesque coastal city directly across the Strait of Georgia from Vancouver. Going for a run in the morning affords views of the Sunshine Coast, and panoramic vistas filled with ocean. I’m blessed to live in one of the most beautiful areas on the earth. Our city is known for its quirky past, easy access to nature, and serving as a hub for consumerism on the Island.

Underneath the brochure, the unhoused population continues to swell, mental health supports are collapsing, and cycles of generational brokenness is evident. As of the 2021 census, Nanaimo was proclaimed the least religious metropolitan area in Canada. Despite having faith communities over a century old, there is very little Gospel impact in the broader city.

What is it going to take to see the Gospel take root in Nanaimo?

I grew up in a Christian home on the prairies. My parents were both strong believers, and my father served in churches through a good chunk of my elementary years. Faith was a safe assumption in my circles, and a regular topic of conversation.

What I didn’t realize was how much comfort had begun to play into my understanding of faith. I was blessed when I had everything that I needed – even more so if I had everything that I wanted. I worked hard, attended church, and sometimes talked about my faith. Everything that I thought was required of me, until God opened my eyes.

It was an uncomfortable day in the throws of the pandemic when God invited me to have another conversion. Will my fear of the unknown be enough to squelch my faith? I had grown complacent collecting a salary, and preaching to others about the benefits of faith. My fervor was genuine, and my passion raw – but my actions didn’t follow my mouth.

Like the disciples on a stormy sea, I was afraid to step out of the boat. Everything that I ‘knew’ told me that on the other side was a bottomless ocean of need that would consume me faster than my foot sensed the surface. I had bought into a world of ‘those people’ who needed to help themselves before I could ever help.

My fear was winning.

A Redeemer

I cannot imagine the scene that unfolded the day that Christ left heaven to join Himself with humanity. The innumerable legions of angels that must have accompanied the Son as He descended upon our planet and became flesh. Soaring through the solar system, surrounded by the heavenly host to invade a planet that the Accuser had claimed for his own, piercing through the darkness in one glorious burst of light. The stage was set for a cosmic showdown with the whole of humanity’s fate in the balance.

This, of course, was foretold in Genesis 3:14-15 when God curses the serpent. Despite this intrusion upon the human race, God was unwilling to give up His creation so easily. While we are damned to live in a state of brokenness, redemption is coming. Where humanity seized power and knowledge that was not theirs to take, Christ gave up what he deserved to become nothing.

This redeemer called others to come and join him, redeeming their vocations and callings for something greater. Rather than fishing for their sustenance, they would learn to throw nets out for humankind. Rejected and ignored by others, they left their humble boats and followed a Rabbi that would not only transform their lives, but the whole course of history.

What did it cost him? Everything. Jesus knew the full extent of humanity: our pains, our temptations, our fears, our struggles, and our death. The eternal creator of the earth subjected Himself to mortality and crucifixion to ransom those he loves.

Confession

Jesus often condemned and faced off against the corrupt institutions of his day. Whether it was the religious who had turned a place of worship into a market, or a religious posture that cast stigma and shame of those under oppression, Jesus didn’t mince words. He was there to proclaim freedom for the captives from all forms of oppression.

Our systems are broken, and our concept of salvation is too narrow. Jesus didn’t ransom me for my personal sins, though that is part of it. He ransomed humanity that we could participate in fixing all that is broken in our world. Have we become complacent in casting blame on others, rather than advocating, creating, and stewarding the solution ourselves?

We are called to a posture of confession, owning our roles in the institutional powers that shame and oppress others. Where power is abused, people are marginalized, the children are turned away, and we erect barriers to healing.

Then, we seek redemption.

Learning to Cooperate

This does not happen overnight, nor is it one individual (or groups) responsibility to realize redemption for all people. To claim territory for ourselves is to fall into an old trap. This is God’s Kingdom, and God’s to establish – our role is to serve as Jesus did.

We recognize that we, like all those who have come before us, have fallen prey to the oily darkness of sin that corrupts our world. Every institution needs redemption: family, church, government, society. Even the early disciples, themselves only years removed from Jesus, struggled with opening the jail cells and inviting the captives to freedom. Peter couldn’t break his Jewish centric faith, and fell victim to his humanity. This recognition allows us to tear down the walls that hold us captive and venture boldly out into the open air, seeking the places where God is working.

In Nanaimo, the vast socio-economic difference between the areas of town makes a homogenous church all but impossible. We need pockets of disciples who are living faithfully in their local contexts – some reaching engineers, doctors and nurses; others deeply involved in the marriages and parenting of their neighbours, who have never had a healthy template to follow. God is already working in every divide we could imagine: racial, gender, monetary, family, education.

The question for anyone seeking to see the Gospel break through is this: How can I join Him?

The Church has reached a time where we can cede the moral high ground to move among the people, seeking to demonstrate a humble kingdom that makes no earthly sense. It is here that we join the march on the gates of hell, knowing that they cannot prevail.