Category: Behold Vancouver

Dear friends,

For over 15 years, Glass Canvas has had the privilege of walking alongside church and ministry leaders, helping them discern their calling, imagine new possibilities, and bring meaningful work into the world.

Along the way, we’ve come to recognize that much of what God has entrusted to us has remained an inaccessible gift.

For some churches and ministries, the cost of our services placed them out of reach entirely. But even among those who could afford our work, we encountered needs and opportunities that didn’t fit into projects or budgets. Churches and ministries faithfully steward the resources entrusted to them, rightly prioritizing work with clear outcomes and manageable risks. Yet some of the most transformative work begins with the freedom to wonder, imagine, and discern what else God might want to do through them.

We’ve increasingly felt a tension in ministering to those we serve while asking them to pay for our time. We sense God clearly inviting us into a new model, one that allows us to offer ourselves freely to the Church.

We’ve already taken this step in faith through Glass Canvas Ministries over the past few months, and this work is already bearing fruit. We have seen individuals experience healing, clarity of identity, and greater freedom to be themselves.

We’re also actively accompanying a growing number of leaders and their teams across North America, from churches and dioceses to seminaries, ministries, and apostolates. We are helping them find, develop, and build towards the God-given vision they already have for their people.

Already, the opportunities to serve are outpacing our current capacity, and we’re discerning how to faithfully respond to the needs before us.

We’re inviting you to help us carry this work forward.

Over the last 6 months we’ve committed all our remaining financial resources to establishing Glass Canvas Ministries and funding this transition through December 15. Alongside this, we’ve been developing a long-term funding strategy through foundations, funds, grants, and generous partners. While we’re making meaningful progress, we don’t expect this funding to materialize until early next year.

With our initial funding coming to an end, we’re inviting you to help bridge the gap until this longer-term support is in place, allowing us to continue this work together and respond to the growing opportunities before us.
Please note that Tilma and our software services will remain operational and unchanged.

At the heart of this work is our team supported by a community of people whose shared values and relationships have shaped a distinctive way of loving and serving others.

We come alongside people as though we’re part of their own team, genuinely entering into what they’re navigating, speaking openly and honestly, and inviting them to imagine possibilities, and find freedom to be themselves in ways they may not have considered.

What comes to mind when you think about the kinds of things an apprentice of Jesus Christ should do on a regular basis? I think of Scripture study, contemplation, reconciliation of conflict, evangelization, works of mercy – all essential and beautiful parts of the Christian life. Sometimes I wonder if my vision of apprenticeship is entirely accurate. I often imagine the most mature version of myself in Christ to be stoic and wise, perhaps even stern. 

Is that what Jesus was like?

Of course we see Jesus taking His time throughout the Gospels to pray, to go into the desert to fast, to heal the sick and proclaim the inbreaking Kingdom of God. A more careful examination reveals something else: He almost seems to be… playful. Consider the Wedding at Cana, wherein the first miracle of Jesus isn’t a work of epic glory but an increase in the festal wine to guarantee the party could keep on going, or the way He chastises His disciples for stopping the little children from playing with Him. Of course in Jesus we see depth, gravity, and attention, but we also see joy, even delight.

Our natural tendency as fallen human beings is toward extremes, as philosophers as ancient as Aristotle were correct to point out. When it comes to joy, a good to be greatly desired in our journey of discipleship, the temptation is to fall into either levity or, for lack of a better term, “being a wet blanket.” In other words, we have to make sure we take following Jesus seriously but that doesn’t mean that everything in our discipleship needs to be serious! It’s a good thing to have fun and to play with the heart of a little child.

I have two kids under three and as I figure out life as a father, I’ve come to deeply appreciate the philosophy behind the Montessori approach to education. One of the most profound findings for me was that, for children, there is rarely a distinction between what we’d call “play” and “work.” Their “work” is to put all of themselves into what we could call “developing fine motor skills” but what they would call “assembling and disassembling Duplo blocks with great gusto.”

I can’t help but think that this is how God approaches His work – as something serious and important but with all of Himself and resulting in great delight. The writer G.K. Chesterton says it beautifully: 

“It is possible that God says every morning, ‘Do it again’ to the sun; and every evening, ‘Do it again’ to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them.

Wildness.

Wild lands.

Untamed and untouched by cultivating hands.

When you find yourself in forgotten places, do you feel abandoned yourself?

I do.

But what if…

What if Yahweh loves a desert? Could He love those in it, too?

What if the wilderness is a place He leads those whom He loves? His own children even?

In The Land Between, Jeff Manion writes:

“I hope that God’s mercy in the past will give sustaining faith for the future… I hope with all my heart that I can trust God when new heartache crashes into our lives… I know that this is more easily seen through the lens of time and healing.”

I write not as someone cleanly and comfortably out of the wilderness, but as someone wrestling to find faith within it.

An Israelite.

I’ve been in the desert before. And I am back again.

Ten years ago, in a transition between provinces and vocations, worldviews and communities, I can testify with resounding certainty how God met me. Yet, it is easy to forget.

Plus, this time feels different. There’s more shame precisely because I’ve been here before.

Shouldn’t I be better now? Shouldn’t I have learned something?

I grow impatient. I’m tired of returning to lack and need. I wish I didn’t have to feel trust tested again. I wish I wasn’t prone to discouragement. And I am embarrassed that I still need to cry out to God.

Crying even sounds too polished; when in truth, I am screaming at Him.

I oscillate between feeling that none of it matters and a deep, guttural urge to tell the cosmos about my pain.

Am I lost? I am.

Have I been abandoned after all? I don’t know.

But I do know I am no different than my ancestors, who asked for meat. Egypt had vegetables and fish, and the Israelites longed for it.

I, too, would love to be financially secure, to own assets indicative of success, and have experiences my wealth afforded.

But I am in the wilderness.

Part of me would prefer God take this all away right now. Part of me sees life in this moment as only frustration. Yet, in my heart of hearts, I know telling God all of this is good.

Pain continues the conversation.

Moses knew something about this.

When leading Israel became too much, when the people cried out for meat and Moses could no longer carry them, he told God plainly the burden was too heavy. He asked why God had brought this trouble upon him. He even asked God to take his life rather than leave him beneath its weight.

Do you know how to switch off, or do you just know how to keep going? Fr Columba explores an idea from the philosopher Josef Pieper: that leisure, real rest, is the basis of culture, and it isn’t the same thing as amusement. Drawing on Aristotle and his own struggle with burnout, he unpacks why so many of us only know how to work and how to be entertained, but never how to simply be. If you’ve ever finished a holiday more tired than when you started, this is an invitation to actually rest.

What kind of community do we desperately long for, and yet, what are we often unwilling to do to form it?

Join John Mark Comer and Shelbi Shutt as they explore five practices for cultivating community, featuring testimonials from real-life practitioners, and an interview with luminary David Kim. 

In this episode’s luminary interview, John Mark and David discuss the process of cultivating deep relationships and the practices we often avoid to form them. 

What is the main culprit behind so much disconnection and damage in our relationships?

Join John Mark Comer and Shelbi Shutt as they explore the universal experience of shame, featuring conversations with everyday people in the West, testimonials from real-life practitioners, and an interview with shame expert Dr. Curt Thompson. 

In this episode’s luminary interview, John Mark and Dr. Thompson discuss the degrees of disconnection and damage caused by shame and how we can address this ancient enemy to connection.

Is Grandpa really in my bones?

How can we cultivate the deep relationships Jesus invites us toward in an age of isolation, transience, and superficiality?

You may be familiar with different Catholic rites, but did you know there are more than 20?

Fr. Gregory Pine explains the various rites of the Catholic Church, what makes them unique, and why they exist. Discover the rich diversity of the Catholic Church and the traditions that make up its universal family!

Meet Matt. A dear friend of Glass Canvas whose identity at a young age was shaped by external factors. Throughout his formative years, he struggled with the way his identity was forming — either through basketball, friendships, and achievements — without first understanding who he truly was. He spent years climbing ladders, performing well, and pleasing those around him, assuaged by the feelings of value and belonging.    

At a pivotal point in his life, Matt came to the realization that his identity is secure because it is received from God rather than earned through performance. With this shift in perspective, he can fully embrace the gifts he has been given and allow them to flow freely in service of the people around him, knowing that he is loved unconditionally without the need to prove anything. This secure identity also allows Matt to lean into the freedom of embracing who he is truly meant to be.