On prayer, honeybees, and petrichor
The Third Letter

Alexander Mills • Pastor
June 19, 2023

3 Minute Read

It’s odd, becoming a parent. In the job description is the daunting task of dreaming up an infinite list of things to teach your children (I say infinite because it grows in length each day), and the even taller task of ordering that list in a sequence of importance.

What’s more important - teaching Asher to be kind or to brush his teeth? To look both ways before crossing the street or to pick flowers for his mom?

Some days we work on kindness. Some days his teeth are clean.

Near the top of my list of important things to teach our kids is the practice of prayer. That sounds like a tall task in and of itself, but maybe I can help alleviate some pressure with this - prayer is not a skill to be mastered, but a practice to be practiced.

So that’s how I teach Asher, we practice. He’s learning by rhythm and repetition, as every morning as we turn into his daycare neighbourhood I turn off whatever we’re listening to, look at him in the mirror, and say “ok, it’s time to say a prayer”.

Our recipe is simple - we practice thanksgiving. I begin by thanking God for the day, his mercy, and then a few things that come to my mind. He usually adds a few thanksgivings from the backseat like “balls, Aunt Roo Roo and Aunt Ray Ray, or meat sticks”.

In Jesus’ name we pray, “amen!”.

Henri Nouwen wisely confesses that “I am beginning to see that much praying is grieving”, and yes, I believe that to be true. I am beginning to see however that much of praying is thanksgiving. In fact, thanksgiving is a prayer enough.

So, here’s ten things I’m thankful for today:

  • Friends that turn into family
  • The work of honey bees
  • Mercy
  • The way my dad hugs me every time I see him
  • Petrichor (a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather)
  • The song “I want to serve God” by Sam McCabe
  • The privilege to steward a little parcel of land
  • The wisdom of elders
  • The wonder of children
  • The baby dedication of Mary into the family of faith this coming Sunday

Enter his presence with the password: “Thank you!”
Make yourselves at home, talking praise.
Thank him. Worship him.
For God is sheer beauty,
all-generous in love,
loyal always and ever.

Psalm 100

Grace and peace,
Pastor Alexander

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From this Tag: prayer
October 27, 2026 • 4 Minute Read
Daddy, I'm scared
Our youngest son has been doing some exposure therapy. For the last few weeks, our morning drive to daycare has taken on a bit of a different complexion. The air is chilling requiring different dress, the trees that flank the roads are exchanging their summer skin for their autumn glory, and what was formerly clean-cut grass has been draped in darkness. “Those spooky things are not good for me” he began saying from the backseat as ghosts and ghouls, warlocks and witches watched us pull into the neighbourhood. It’s almost Halloween, and he’s noticing. Aiden is a feeler. He’s a small boy with a large capacity for emotion. He covers his ears at loud sounds, conceals his eyes at scary sights, and is not shy to use his voice to say what’s going on in his heart. These things that he’s frightened of—bolts of lightning, monsters at night, witches on the road—he can’t hide from. He’s learning to face them. So on his daily walks with his classmates through the neighbourhood, he encounters the falltime decorations as they come. A bat hung on a limb, the Paw Patrol inflated and ready to roll, a demonic clown. Each step he takes under their gaze on the sidewalk is a step he takes towards the light. He’s learning that he doesn’t have to be afraid. 

I’m afraid that the exposure has been a bit too effective, however, as yesterday his backseat voice called out excitedly, “Dad, that one is good for me! You love that one too, Dad.” I’m not afraid of all of these Halloween decorations, but I am curious about them. Why do we dress our homes in death? What does it profit us to intentionally stoke fear? I think we all have an innate sense of the supernatural. We live in a regrettably disenchanted world paved in concrete and laced with cynicism. We so desperately want to believe that the world is sacred and that there is something truly spiritual beyond what we can see that we go to great lengths to reach out and touch it, if only for a moment. We tell ghost stories around the campfire, we listen to true crime podcasts, we watch scary movies, we dress up for Halloween. I do believe there is a discerning line between what is good and what is evil, what is profitable and what is deplorable. That line is certainly not black and white or set in stone. Halloween itself was a day marked on the sacred calendar long before it was a contested day in cultural Christianity. In fact, the secular celebrations and decorations are rooted in ancient religious practice. Halloween, or All Hallows Eve, is the night that precedes a Christian holiday called All-Hallows, or All Saints Day. For over a thousand years, All Saints Day has been set apart to remember great saints who lived faithful lives and often died the death of a martyr. It’s why I’ve grown quite fond of the day. For each day this fall that the pumpkins dress our porch and the goblins dress those of our neighbours, I’ll revel in the opportunity to mock the powers and principalities of this world. Yes, I believe in demons and dark things. I’m convinced of the presence of things unseen. I don’t confess, however, that they have any power over my past, present, or future. We will not be afraid. I agree with the Creator of the cosmos that death has been defeated, and life everlasting is our inheritance. Nothing can steal or scare that away from me. So take heart, dear Christian. Do not be afraid. Mock the darkness, revel in the light. God is alive. Grace and peace, Pastor Alexander

Alexander Mills

Pastor

October 6, 2026 • 3 Minute Read
Who created this?
Glance at the sun. See the moon and the stars. Gaze at the beauty of earth’s greenings. Now, think. These words were written about a thousand years ago by a woman called Hildegard. She was a mystic visionary with eyes to see God in creation and a voice to tell of the glories she beheld. This weekend in our church community, Joy put on Hildegard’s mantle and encouraged us not only to think, but to tell of where we have recently seen the glories and goodness of God. Many of us chose to speak up and share of our experiences, and notably, every single testimony spoke of encountering God in the created world. You heard God’s voice in the loon’s call and felt His nearness in the monarch’s flutter. You saw His face in the setting sun and His glory in the clouds. The moon, the stars, and the maple trees all testified of His handiwork. It’s no coincidence that we see and experience God in the created world. The cosmos is His self-revelation. It’s been said that “Christ wears two shoes in the world: Scripture and nature. Both are necessary to understand the Lord, and at no stage can creation be seen as a separation of things from God." Creation is the manifest image of a creator God. The rocks cry out His praise. And so do we. Joy’s word to us didn’t end with, “Now, think.” That’s where it started. It ended with, “Now, say!” Think of the goodness of God, then speak your doxology. Give your glory sayings a voice! To be able to speak of what we’ve seen, we have to have first seen. If your vision of God feels cloudy and the evidence of His work seems hard to find, consider this evening practice. Tonight before you rest, pause for a moment of prayer. Give the time between turning off the screen and closing your eyes for sleep to God. Come to quiet, and acknowledge the presence of God. Breathe slowly and deeply. Inhale his love, exhale your hurry. Review your day like a film in your mind. Let each moment come to you—don’t stress or strive to remember them all—and as you see yourself move through the day that was, look for God. Where did I notice God? Where did God feel far off? Notice your emotions. Pay attention to what comes up, and let God meet you there. No emotion is unwelcome. Give your gratitude to God for all the things you received. Give your confessions to God for all the things you did or neglected to do. This type of evening prayer is called an examen, and it’s a good daily ritual to begin practicing. It will give you a shape for prayer when you don’t know what to say, it will heighten your awareness to God’s constant movement in your life, and it will grow your heart in gratitude to the Creator of all things. God, give us eyes to see and a voice to speak of all of your wondrous works. Grace and peace, Pastor Alexander

Alexander Mills

Pastor

September 22, 2026 • 3 Minute Read
How much is too much?
That’s a bit too much sugar in my tea. The music is a little too loud in this restaurant. I got too much sun on my skin today. How much is too much? In some ways, it’s the perennial question of our day. Not because we all have more than we need, but because the spirit of the air incessantly persuades us to believe that more stuff, more pleasure, more money, more of more will fill the God-shaped hole in our hearts. When the truth is, you already have everything you need. God, the giver of life, has given you the grace enough to survive. You are alive. In Him, through Him, by Him, and for Him, we live. We have all we need for being. Yet as we are living, it is imperative to know how much is too much. Gregory the Great calls it the great art to moderation. In all things, he suggests, the Christian should seek to live a life of balance. Not too far to the left, or not too far to the right. Not too high or too low. A moderate life, unable to be swayed to extremes in either direction, steady in step on the journey with God. It’s apt that St. Gregory calls this moderation an art, because it truly is a learned discipline that is formed over time to know how much is too much. We’re not born knowing. A five-year-old doesn’t intuitively know how much sugar is too much. A fifteen-year-old must be told how much screen time is enough. A fifty-year-old is still learning how much money they should seek to earn, keep, and give away. We will not stumble our way into mastering this art. This is true of every spiritual discipline. The question is not am I being formed, the question is what is forming me? This much is sure—we will either be formed on purpose or by osmosis. So consider this: begin the practice of regularly asking yourself, your closest friends, and those in your church community, how much is too much? By asking the question, we open ourselves to an answer. God is sure to meet us in our prayer with an answer, guiding us by his grace into learning how to live a moderate life. I imagine that we will find great joy, peace that lasts, and newfound liberation along the way. Grace and peace, Pastor Alexander

Alexander Mills

Pastor

September 8, 2026 • 2 Minute Read
A Blessing For A New School Year
For many people in our community, today marks the beginning of a new season. Students are going back to school, and littles are making their way there for the first time. Teachers are going back to work, and parents are adjusting to new family schedules. To navigate any transition like this, we turn to prayer. We commit our anxiety, our stress, and the rhythm of our entire lives to the Giver of life. Wherever you find yourself today, pause for this moment and prayer this blessing. The year is tilting toward the start of school again, but truth be told, we’re not ready. We’re still hanging on to summer, to the promise it held for long-awaited connections and celebrations, for refreshment for our bodies and souls in water and sky and colour and sunlight, and all those little moments given to us where we could linger just a little longer. Now that it’s almost over, we don’t want to let it go. The beauty. The freedom. All that was life-giving. God, could you help us stretch it, extend it, and maybe even blend it into this coming school year? Parents, students, teachers, all, may your newly-structured days breathe with creativity, your new duties be infused with delight. As you write on those fresh new calendars may you trust that your plans are a lot like magic ink. Much may seem to disappear into obscurity, but whatever is done in love will remain. (Kate Bowler)

Alexander Mills

Pastor

April 21, 2026 • 3 Minute Read
How to see God
My dad takes a conservative approach to giving and using nicknames. For the most part, he’ll call you by your given name. That was my experience as a child with one exception – he affectionately called me Farsight. Born from the imagination of C.S. Lewis into the land of Narnia, Farsight was a talking eagle who served as a messenger to the King. True to his nature and name, his eyesight was spectacular. He saw what others couldn’t. I guess I garnered the name thanks to my ability to notice. The deer on the field edge, the chickadee perched, the missing lego over there. By nature it seems, I’m often able to see what others can’t. Yet here’s the truth – I’m not eagle-eyed. My ability to see is no more than 20/20, in fact without my glasses, it’s much less than that. I’m convinced, however, that seeing—and more importantly, noticing—is a nurtured ability. It’s practiced and perfected. It’s work. The poet says, “to pay attention is our endless and proper work.” The priest agrees: “My only prayer practice is attention.” There’s a sacred discipline to the art of noticing. Paying attention to the budding branch, the singing bird, the forming storm, is no doubt an act of spiritual practice. This act of noticing makes an opportunity to at least acknowledge God, and at best encounter him. Worship him. See him, hear him, smell him, touch him, taste him. Worship him. And yes, this takes practice. It’s not hyperbole to say that there are more voices and visions vying for our attention now more than there ever have been, so this work may be more difficult than ever as well. Hard work is good work, beloved. Begin here with an intentional choice today: go for a walk, get a house plant, look up from your phone. gaze at the gluten structure of a piece of bread, think about your fingerprints, look up from your phone. listen to a bird song, listen to a secular song, look up from your phone. Look up, look around, look above and below. Open your eyes to see that there’s evidence of resurrection everywhere you look. But you have to look. God can be and is revealed in all manner of ordinary things, especially created things. There are reflections of his goodness in just about every corner, crack, and crevasse if you’re looking for him. May we be formed into a people who are always looking, noticing, and behold God wherever he may be found. Grace and peace, Pastor Alexander

Alexander Mills

Pastor

July 17, 2023 • 3 Minute Read
The portrait of a praying woman
It’s rumoured that she was younger than 8 years old when her parents dedicated her to a Benedictine monastery on the westside of Germany. There she would live and grow in the grace of God, leading her fellow nuns into the Light through music, visions, and connection to the earth. Her name was Hildegard of Bingen, she died in 1179, and her portrait hangs in our kitchen by the back door. I bought her portrait as a gift to Rebecca earlier this year as winter was melting into spring. We hung it by the back door intentionally, because the backdoor leads us to our garden. Saint Hildegard reminds me of Rebecca in all sorts of ways, but especially in the way that she revered the cosmos and everything within it. She was a gardener, a forager, and a medical plant practitioner. She didn't want to simply visit this world but wanted to be fully in it, embracing the wonder and goodness of God's creation. "Glance at the sun,” Hildegard says. “See the moon and the stars. Gaze at the beauty of earth's greenings. Now think. What delight God gives to humankind with all these things. Who gives all these shining gifts, if not God?" That reads like a poem, doesn’t it? A Psalm, even? We’re practicing praying the Psalms as a community, beginning each one of our worship services by praying an entire poem together. The Psalms are the training ground for prayer, and so we’re learning how to pray. One Psalm at a time. Today, pray this Psalm of creation with me. If you’re reading this, you’re surely looking at a screen of some kind. So take a step outside or at the very least move yourself next to a window, behold the cosmos, and let us pray: Hallelujah! Praise God from heaven, praise him from the mountaintops; Praise him, all you his angels, praise him, all you his warriors, Praise him, sun and moon, praise him, you morning stars; Praise him, high heaven, praise him, heavenly rain clouds; Praise, oh let them praise the name of God—he spoke the word, and there they were! He set them in place from all time to eternity; He gave his orders, and that’s it! Praise God from earth, you sea dragons, you fathomless ocean deeps; Fire and hail, snow and ice, hurricanes obeying his orders; Mountains and all hills, apple orchards and cedar forests; Wild beasts and herds of cattle, snakes, and birds in flight; Earth’s kings and all races, leaders and important people, Robust men and women in their prime, and yes, greybeards and little children. Let them praise the name of God—it’s the only Name worth praising. His radiance exceeds anything in earth and sky; he’s built a monument—his very own people! Israel’s children, intimate friends of God. Hallelujah! Psalm 148, The Message Translation Grace and peace, Pastor Alexander

Alexander Mills

Pastor

Currently Reading
June 19, 2023 • 3 Minute Read
On prayer, honeybees, and petrichor
It’s odd, becoming a parent. In the job description is the daunting task of dreaming up an infinite list of things to teach your children (I say infinite because it grows in length each day), and the even taller task of ordering that list in a sequence of importance. What’s more important - teaching Asher to be kind or to brush his teeth? To look both ways before crossing the street or to pick flowers for his mom? Some days we work on kindness. Some days his teeth are clean. Near the top of my list of important things to teach our kids is the practice of prayer. That sounds like a tall task in and of itself, but maybe I can help alleviate some pressure with this - prayer is not a skill to be mastered, but a practice to be practiced. So that’s how I teach Asher, we practice. He’s learning by rhythm and repetition, as every morning as we turn into his daycare neighbourhood I turn off whatever we’re listening to, look at him in the mirror, and say “ok, it’s time to say a prayer”. Our recipe is simple - we practice thanksgiving. I begin by thanking God for the day, his mercy, and then a few things that come to my mind. He usually adds a few thanksgivings from the backseat like “balls, Aunt Roo Roo and Aunt Ray Ray, or meat sticks”. In Jesus’ name we pray, “amen!”. Henri Nouwen wisely confesses that “I am beginning to see that much praying is grieving”, and yes, I believe that to be true. I am beginning to see however that much of praying is thanksgiving. In fact, thanksgiving is a prayer enough. So, here’s ten things I’m thankful for today: Friends that turn into family The work of honey bees Mercy The way my dad hugs me every time I see him Petrichor (a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather) The song “I want to serve God” by Sam McCabe The privilege to steward a little parcel of land The wisdom of elders The wonder of children The baby dedication of Mary into the family of faith this coming Sunday Enter his presence with the password: “Thank you!” Make yourselves at home, talking praise. Thank him. Worship him. For God is sheer beauty, all-generous in love, loyal always and ever. Psalm 100 Grace and peace, Pastor Alexander

Alexander Mills

Pastor