QUILT FOR SALE– The NUC Quilters have a beautiful hand quilted ”Snails Trail” quilt for sale. The size is 66” x 80” (twin size or comfort size). The quilters are asking $400.00, with all proceeds used for church projects. Please contact the church office for further information.

“I lift up my eyes to the hills – from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.”
-Psalm 121:1–2

There’s something honest about the opening of Psalm 121. It begins with a question, not an answer. Where will my help come from? We know that question well. It comes in the middle of the night when our worries are louder than sleep. It comes when we’ve tried every option and still feel powerless. It comes when the world feels overwhelming: wars we cannot seem to end, grief we cannot undo, situations we cannot fix. It’s the question that rises when life feels heavy, when we’ve tried everything in our power and still feel overwhelmed.

The psalmist’s answer shifts the focus: “My help comes from the Lord.” Peace, in this sense, isn’t something we can force into being or manufacture by sheer willpower. It is a gift that flows from God’s presence, a reminder that we are not alone, and that God is steadfast even when life feels unsteady.

But that doesn’t mean we stop seeking peace. Rather, it means our striving for peace is not rooted in our own strength alone. We reach toward peace – within ourselves, in our relationships, and in our world – trusting that God meets us there. Peace is both gift and calling: something we receive and something we extend.

So maybe this week we practice lifting our eyes – away from the weight of what we cannot control – and toward the steady presence of God who keeps us. From that place, we may discover the courage to live more peacefully, and to become bearers of peace for others.

Take-Away Questions

• Where do you most feel the strain of trying to control what is beyond your reach?
• What would it look like to “lift your eyes” in that place and rest in God’s keeping instead?
• What is one way you can share God’s peace with someone else this week?

Let’s pray:

God of peace, when the weight of the world feels too heavy, help us lift our eyes to you. Teach us to rest in your keeping and to share the peace you give with all we meet along the way. AMEN

“He who keeps you will neither slumber nor sleep… The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and forevermore.” – Psalm 121

There’s something deeply comforting in the idea that while we sleep, God does not. Psalm 121 reminds us that God never slumbers, never takes a break from watching over us. We are kept in a love that never wavers, even when our own strength and awareness give way to exhaustion.

When worries keep us awake at night, it can feel like we are alone with our racing thoughts. But this psalm invites us to imagine a different reality: that even in the silence of the night, Someone is awake, attentive, and holding us in care.

Take a moment each night this week before bed. Close your eyes. Breathe deeply. Then, picture God – however you most naturally imagine God – as a presence watching over you. Maybe it’s God as a person, sitting gently beside your bed. Maybe it’s a warm light that fills the room. Maybe it’s an energy that surrounds you like a blanket. However you see God, allow yourself to rest in that keeping.

As you settle in, you might whisper a prayer like: “God, I place this day into Your hands. Hold the things I cannot hold. Keep me in peace as I rest.”

Journaling Invitation

Before turning out the light, take a few minutes to write down the things that weigh on your mind. Instead of carrying them into sleep, offer them into God’s keeping. Write them down, then close your journal with a simple prayer:
“God, You do not slumber or sleep. I entrust these things to You.”

And then, let yourself rest knowing you are watched over, kept, and loved through the night.

There are times when gratitude flows easily. The good news arrives, the sickness passes, the long-awaited answer finally comes, and we say, “Thank you, God.” Psalm 30 is full of that kind of gratitude: deliverance, healing, joy. But if we listen closely, there’s more going on here.

The psalmist isn’t only thankful for what God has done. They are grateful for who God is. Gratitude here doesn’t depend on circumstances lining up neatly. It’s rooted in the unchanging character of God: merciful, faithful, present.

That’s a different kind of thanksgiving. It means even when life feels uncertain, even when the night stretches on longer than we hoped, gratitude can still rise, not because everything is perfect, but because God’s love holds us steady through it all.

This week, I wonder what it would look like to practice gratitude not only for the gifts we receive, but for the Giver. To pause and give thanks for God’s presence before the answers come, before the situation resolves, before we can see the full picture.

Maybe you might take a quiet moment in your day and simply whisper: “Thank you, God, for being You.” No list, no conditions, just thanks for the One who is always faithful.

Some questions to carry with you this week:

• What is one way you’ve experienced God’s presence, even in a season of waiting or uncertainty?
• How might gratitude shift when it’s directed toward who God is, rather than what has changed in your life?
• Where do you sense God inviting you to give thanks, even before the full story unfolds?

Because at its heart, a song of gratitude is not just about what changes around us. It’s about what never changes: the steadfast love of God.

Let’s pray:

Faithful God, thank You for being You: merciful, steady, near. In every season, teach us to rest in Your love and give thanks always. AMEN

📖 “Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning.” (Psalm 30:5)

Psalm 30 reminds us that gratitude often rises out of places where we’ve known struggle or sorrow. Joy comes as a gift, clothing us in something new. Gratitude, then, is not just a private feeling, it’s a rhythm we can practice, a song we can carry into the world.

This week’s spiritual practice:

• Each morning, pause before you begin your day.
• Name one place in your life where God has brought light out of darkness, or joy after a hard season. Whisper a simple: “Thank you, God.”
• Write it down if you’d like, or carry it in your heart.

Then, as you move through your day, let gratitude spill outward. Offer words of thanks freely:

• Thank the cashier, the bus driver, the friend who checks in.
• Thank a co-worker, a family member, even someone who challenges you.
• Let your gratitude be a gift, reminding others that they too are seen and valued.

By week’s end, notice how gratitude changes not only your heart, but the hearts of those around you.

Psalm 146

Psalm 146 paints such a vivid picture of who God is. It tells us that God “secures justice for the oppressed, gives food to the hungry, sets prisoners free, opens the eyes of the blind, lifts up those who are bowed down.”

It’s not abstract. It’s not theoretical. It’s action.

And that’s the thing, God’s justice isn’t about lofty ideals floating somewhere in the clouds. It’s lived out in the most tangible ways: food shared, freedom restored, dignity lifted, belonging offered.

When we see this, we’re not just spectators admiring God’s work from a distance. The psalmist invites us to step into the picture, to let the rhythms of God’s justice shape the rhythms of our own lives. The psalmist isn’t just saying, “Look at what God does,” but also, “If you love God, let your life echo these actions.”

Justice with God’s hands is compassionate and personal. Justice with our hands can be too.

That might mean:

• speaking up for someone whose voice isn’t being heard,
• noticing the person others overlook,
• offering a meal, a ride, a listening ear,
• or choosing to love someone who has been told they don’t belong.

These acts might seem small, but they are kingdom work. They are the visible signs of God’s heart in our world. So maybe this week, as we hold Psalm 146 close, we can let it shape not only our praise but also our daily choices.

Reflect on the following as you make your way through the week:

• Which of God’s actions in Psalm 146 speaks to you most today?
• Who in your community might be “the stranger,” “the oppressed,” or “the bowed down” God is calling you to notice?
• What is one small, concrete act you can take this week to make God’s justice visible through your life?

Remember, God’s justice is love in action, and we are called to be part of the story.

Let’s pray:
God of compassion and courage, open our eyes to see the ones you see, open our hearts to love as you love, and open our hands to join in your work of justice. Let our lives echo your mercy, until all your children know they are seen, valued, and beloved. Amen.

This week, our worship invites us to sing a song of justice grounded in Psalm 146, a psalm that reminds us where to place our trust:

“Do not put your trust in princes, in mortals, in whom there is no help…The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down; the Lord watches over the stranger.”
(Psalm 146:3, 8–9)

God’s justice is not abstract. It’s active, grounded, and embodied; lifting up the lowly, feeding the hungry, healing the brokenhearted. It shows up in how we treat one another, how we build community, how we notice what’s going on around us.

🚶‍♀️ Practice: See and Speak – A Justice Walk

At some point this week, take a walk. It can be around your block, through your workplace, or along a familiar trail (though not through the woods in light of the threat of forest fires). The place doesn’t matter but your awareness does.

As you walk, open your senses to the world around you. Ask:

• Where do I see signs of compassion, dignity, equity?
• Where do I see places or people being overlooked?
• What is broken, hurting, or in need of healing?

Pause at least once. Whisper a line from Psalm 146:

“The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down. The Lord watches over the stranger.”

Let your walk become a form of prayer.

You don’t need to solve anything, unless you have the means to do so (like picking up stray garbage left behind by others). You don’t need to judge or explain. Just notice. Bless what is good. Name what is broken. And let God speak into both.

🙏 Go Deeper:

After your walk, take a moment to reflect:

• What stayed with you?
• What surprised you?
• Where did you feel the Spirit nudging you?

You might write a line in a journal, offer a prayer, or share a story with someone close.

“As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God.” – Psalm 42:1

Some weeks feel like deserts.

We go through the motions, but joy is dry. Prayer feels like a stretch. Hope is something we know we should feel, but don’t. It’s in these dry places that Psalm 42 meets us.

The writer doesn’t pretend. Rather they speak plainly: “My tears have been my food day and night.” They remember better days: the sound of worship, the feeling of closeness to God. But now, all of that feels far away. And yet, even in the desert, they speak this truth to their own soul: “Hope in God; for I shall again praise him.”

That’s what longing sounds like when it refuses to give up.

To thirst for God is itself a kind of prayer, an ache that pulls us back toward the One who is Living Water. We may not always find God in the ways we used to. But the thirst, the longing, means the connection isn’t lost. It’s just waiting to be found again.

So if you’re in a dry place, you’re not alone. Even the psalmist wandered through that desert. And still, a quiet hope grew.

Reflective questions for this week:

• Where do you feel spiritual thirst right now? What’s missing or dry in your inner life?
• What “streams” have sustained you in the past? Worship? Community? Time in nature?

This week, return to one of those “watering places,” even briefly. Go for a walk. Light a candle. Whisper a breath prayer: “My soul thirsts for you, O God.”

When words fail, and prayer seems difficult, here are some words to carry with you:

O God, when I feel dry, be my stream. When I feel far, draw me close. I thirst for you. Amen.

Psalm 100

Psalm 100 calls us to “Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise.” It’s an invitation to bring praise into every part of life, not just in church pews or moments set aside for prayer, but in the thick of our daily living.

Everyday praise is about paying attention. It’s about leaning into the gift of being alive, noticing what we so easily overlook. The warmth of coffee in your hands. A friend’s unexpected message. The laughter at the dinner table. The steady rhythm of your own breath.

When we live with praise, we live awake. We refuse to let the ordinary become invisible. We remember that every heartbeat is a borrowed gift, every relationship a chance to love well, every corner of our day a place where gratitude can grow roots.

To praise God in everyday moments is to say: I will not take this life for granted. I will not sleepwalk through what should make me sing.

Maybe praise this week is offering a genuine thank you to someone who usually goes unnoticed. Maybe it’s taking five quiet minutes to watch the clouds. Maybe it’s blessing your meal with more than habit, really tasting it, naming the goodness of it.

Maybe it’s telling someone, “I’m grateful for you.”

A few questions to hold this week:

• Where are you being invited to notice life’s small gifts?
• What ordinary moment can you turn into praise?
• How can your praise overflow into kindness and care for someone else?

May your gates swing wide this week, may your everyday courts be full of thanksgiving, and may you feel the steady goodness of the One whose love endures forever.

Let’s pray:

Holy and loving God, open our eyes to the wonder tucked inside our ordinary days. Teach us to greet each moment with a thankful heart, to find Your goodness in small things, to delight in the people we share this life with, to turn each breath into a quiet hallelujah. May our lives be songs of praise that echo far beyond these words: in how we love, how we listen, how we care. Guide us to live wide awake, never taking for granted the gift of life You’ve given. In Jesus’ name, we pray. AMEN

*** Please Note ***: There will be no Mid-week Moment for July 23rd or July 30th while Rev. Richard is away on leave.

On Sunday, Jeanie Whitehead, our chair of the Worship Committee, surprised me (Rev. Richard Bowley) with her thanks for my leadership in the planning for the Joint Centennial Celebration held at FHS on June 8th. She also offered her appreciation for the message I delivered that day, which had to be written last minute due to our guest speaker being ill.

I felt so blessed by that appreciation, and for the appreciation that many in the congregation showed me that day, and in the months and – almost – years of ministry at Nashwaaksis United Church (August 1 is the 2 year anniversary).

Unfortunately, we were not able to record the Centennial Service due to technical difficulties, but I thought that it would be good to share the text of the message that I offered on that day for anyone who didn’t get a chance to hear it. The title, though it was not in any of the material, was 100 Years – A Great Start

***Small Disclaimer*** Sometimes the words on the page aren’t always the words that come out. Sometimes in the moment I feel called by the Spirit to add words, skip others, or go in a different direction entirely. However, for this message I did stick pretty close, as far as I can remember. Also the way I structure my sermons may seem strange, but it works for me

You can read the message below, or download a pdf here.

Thank you again, for this call and ministry that we share!

100 Years – A Great Start

Holy and loving God, We gather today with full hearts, grateful for the faith that brought us here, grateful for the hands that built and shaped this United Church of Ours, grateful for the stories, the songs, and the saints. As we mark a hundred years of witness and wonder, we pause. Root us again in your love, and ready us for the journey ahead. By your Spirit, breathe fresh vision, and lead us into the wide horizon of your grace. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.

It’s a strange thing, standing at the 100-year mark.
-There’s something deeply human about looking back, remembering where we’ve been, the people who came before us, the moments that mattered. 
-And for many of us, when we think about the church, our minds go back to what some might call the “glory days.”

You know the ones.
-The pews were full. The choir had a waiting list. Sunday School classrooms overflowed. The building rang with laughter and life and the sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen.
-And when we remember those days, something in us aches, not just with gratitude for those who brought us this far, but with a longing.
-Longing for what we’ve lost. Longing for the days when church felt central, to our lives, to our communities, to the world.
-And that longing is real. It deserves to be honoured. Because the truth is those days were beautiful. 
-The love poured into our churches – the commitment, the service, the sacrifice – it mattered. It still matters. It’s part of the foundation we stand on today.
-but that same longing is also a sign that the Spirit is still stirring in us, nudging us on to what might be.

Because the Holy Spirit is not a museum curator.
-The Spirit is not content to linger behind us, holding tight to the memories of what once was. The Spirit does not live in the comfort of yesterday’s victories. 
-The Spirit is not frozen in time with the best hymns and the best attendance record.

No, the Spirit is out ahead of us.
-Moving. Stirring. Dreaming things we haven’t yet dared to imagine. And as much as we honour the past, as much as we celebrate the century behind us – , and that is part of what we are doing here today – we are not called to live backward.
-We are called to live forward. And the good news is the same Spirit who stirred in the hearts of those early visionaries in 1925, they’re still stirring now.

So if we’re not called to live backward — then what are we called to carry forward?
-What endures, even as buildings change, even as programs shift, even as the world seems to move faster and faster around us?
-Paul puts it simply in his letter to the Ephesians: “I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus, and your love for all the saints… and I do not cease to give thanks for you.”

Faith and love.
-That’s what lasts. And if there’s one thing the United Church of Canada has tried – however imperfectly – to live out over these past 100 years, it’s that.
-Not just faith as belief, but faith as trust, trust in a God who is still speaking, still welcoming, still reforming the church.
-and not just love as sentiment, but love as action, love that shows up, stands up, and speaks up for those pushed to the margins.

Think of what that faith and love have made possible for us over the last century.
-It took faith to dream of a union in 1925, a bold, Spirit-led act of ecumenical hope.
-It took love to speak hard truths, to apologize to Indigenous communities and begin the long journey of reconciliation.
-It took faith to ordain women when it wasn’t popular.
-It took love to affirm our LGBTQ+ siblings when the world said “no” but the gospel said “yes.”
-If faith and love could do that in 1925, in 1936, in 1988 – what might they do in this generation? What doors is the Spirit opening now that we’ve barely dared to knock on?

Because faith and love is the heart of this church.
-Not perfection. Not certainty. But a deep, stubborn trust in God’s grace, and a love wide enough to hold difference, doubt, and hope all at once.

That’s something worth carrying into the next century.
-And Paul doesn’t just name those as characteristics. He goes deeper. He prays that we might be rooted and grounded in love.
-And being rooted is about where we draw our strength. It’s about what holds us fast when the winds change and they’ve changed a lot over the years.

Over a hundred years, we’ve seen cultural shifts, declining attendance, rising anxieties about the future of organized religion.
-We’ve seen hard decisions, shrinking budgets, amalgamations, and closures. But through it all, the roots have held. Because those roots go deeper than any single generation.
-They go deeper than any single building or program or trend. They reach all the way down and back to the love of Christ, a love that does not fail, even when everything else feels fragile.

But roots aren’t there just to keep us in place. Roots feed growth.
-To be rooted in love doesn’t mean staying the same, it means having the nourishment we need to stretch, to reach, to risk.
-It means being secure enough in who we are to evolve. Brave enough to be transformed. Bold enough to dream of what might yet be in the shadow of uncertainty.
-That’s what has kept the United Church moving forward, not a desire to keep up with the times, but a desire to keep growing in love.
-And that’s still our calling. Not just to protect what was, but to live more fully into what could be. To open wider. To go deeper. To reach beyond.

And if love is what roots us, then our faith and the Spirit are what helps us to grow.
-in his letter Paul prays that “the eyes of your heart may be enlightened,” that we might know the hope to which we are called, and trust in the power already at work within us, “the power that can do immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine” with the support and guidance of the Spirit

That’s not just a poetic flourish. That’s a vision.
-And it’s one we need, especially now, as we stand at the edge of a new century in the life of this church.
-Because, let’s be honest, it’s easy to feel uncertain about the road ahead.
-We’re not the cultural center we once were. We don’t have the same numbers, the same programs, the same predictability.
-We worry about sustainability. About relevance. About whether there’s a place for the church in tomorrow’s world.
-yes, the road ahead is uncertain. But uncertainty is just space for God to surprise us.

And Paul’s words continue to call us back to hope.
-They remind us that the Spirit is not finished with us yet, that God is not done with us yet. That the story of the United Church of Canada isn’t just a chapter in the past, it’s a living, breathing witness that is still unfolding.

Because the Holy Spirit doesn’t cling to what was.
-They move toward what will be. The Holy Spirit is always out ahead of us, calling us into new forms of community, new partnerships, new expressions of worship and witness.

And our job? Our job is to catch the wind.
-To raise our sails. To let go of what holds us back. To trust that when Paul says “immeasurably more” it’s not just a hope, it’s a promise.

One hundred years. It’s no small thing.
-It’s a century of prayers whispered and shouted. A century of babies baptized, of bread broken, of hands held in hospital rooms. A century of music, mission, justice, coffee, casseroles, hard questions, holy moments.
-It’s worth celebrating. It’s worth giving thanks. It’s worth pausing, just for a moment, to marvel at the ways that the Holy Spirit has worked through us over the years.

But the best way we honour the past is by living into the future.
-By being a people still rooted in love, still shaped by faith, still willing to risk everything on the wide and wild grace of God.

So let’s not shrink from what’s ahead.
-Let’s not bury the gospel in caution and committee. Let’s ask. Let’s imagine. Let’s believe that God is still at work in us, through us, among us, doing more than we can yet see.

And let’s carry this words of Paul into the next century as we continue to be guided and inspire by that Spirit:
-“That Christ may dwell in our hearts through faith…That we, being rooted and grounded in love, may have power…To grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ…And to know this love that surpasses knowledge…That we may be filled with all the fullness of God.”

One hundred years. It is no small thing. But it’s a great start. Let’s pray:

God of all generations, you have been our help in ages past, and you are our hope for years to come. We thank you for all that has brought us to this moment: for faith passed down, for love lived out, for courage shown, even in uncertain times. Now, O God, send us forward with hearts wide open. Plant us deeper in your love. Grow in us a holy imagination for what your church can be. Keep us faithful. Keep us brave. Keep us rooted and keep us reaching. We offer this and all our prayers in the strong name of Jesus Christ, our brother and our guide. AMEN