In the common parlance ministers are called to their profession. The call comes from God. This divine interception is the only way to explain why anybody would want the job: an awkward mixture of parent, sibling, therapist, counsellor, CEO, writer, philosopher, theologian, adviser and preacher. It is a lot to ask of one person, and the financial compensation is not necessarily equal to the demands. It can be a very stressful profession.

One Sunday morning at Trinity Community Church outside of Barrie, Ont., lead pastor, Carey Nieuwhof, started his sermon by talking about Satisfaction by the Rolling Stones. The song had been played earlier in the service. He discussed the sex, drugs and rock'n'roll ethos of the song, the search for worldly happiness, the hedonistic pursuit of pleasure, and the emptiness of that search. He used the song to talk about real satisfaction, that deep down spiritual pleasure that only God can offer.

Everything a church does is ministry. Everything. Everything a church does is mission. Everything.

Godspell, the musical, has a rock-like score which speaks to teens' high energy level. Its humorous rendition of the gospels allows them to have fun while learning more about Jesus. Its high level of improvisation releases their imaginations. Godspell is a great way to capture the imagination and encourage the faith of teenagers.

There is a fable about three old monks living in a small monastery. Their home was falling into ruin and they knew that once they […]

Reaching out in dynamic new ways doesn't always require leaving the church building. Unique ministry can happen where you worship — you just have to figure out how to use what you've already got.

For over three decades Reginald Bibby has been monitoring the religious and spiritual pulse of Canadians as a demographer and statistician. He has always maintained a distance, befitting his profession as a social scientist, from his data. But his latest book, Restless Churches: How Canada's Churches Can Contribute to the Emerging Religious Renaissance is more personal. Bibby speaks directly to churches, arguing they can win back their lost members, if they want to.

I love to tell stories — all varieties. Always have; I still have a comic book on subscription. I have been a youth leader for many years and over those years I have struggled to find ways to tell Bible stories. With my comic books as inspiration, and a Rabbi for guidance, I've developed a story telling method; one I find works very well, which I call the Rabinnical.

Each individual's motivation for going on a retreat is very personal. Some are at a crisis point and need to make an important decision, some want to draw closer to God, some to work through issues and to seek God's help, some are curious, some want a place of quiet and rest, some come to unburden and others to seek renewal or more intimate contact with God. The reasons are as varied as the people. Though there is no magical solutions and problems are not always resolved, invariably the person is touched in some healing or encouraging way. Underlying issues often come to the surface as people learn to open themselves more fully to God. As issues are dealt with, the situation may be transformed or the problem may disappear. What also happens is that the presence of God becomes more palpable and life becomes easier to face.

Money. Women. Fame. Prestige. Being a major league baseball player has its perks. But worldly temptations and inflated egos are things Vince Perkins is trying to resist. As a Christian in the majors, one of the newest players for the Toronto Blue Jays tries to keep his eyes on God. "I always try to remember why I'm here," said the British Columbia native. "There's a lot of money to be made and a lot of worldly things available, but I try to concentrate on my faith, and make sure I'm doing God's will."

Congregations have an excellent example to follow when taking their ministries beyond church walls: Although Jesus did teach in synagogues, the majority of his preaching took place on the street, in the communities he was serving. It's still an effective way to spread the good news today. When Rev. Ramon Ramirez had his former church building in El Salvador seized in 1997 by his denomination (which accused numerous pastors and missionaries of being communists for helping the poor), the Baptist minister and his parishioners were out on the street. They began a ministry born in the aftermath of a civil war known for its death squads and terrorists. Those committed to social action took advantage of their new circumstances and began to work amongst the poor in El Salvador. Meeting at first in coffee shops, restaurants, and the homes and offices of those involved, Ramirez and his partners vowed to correct the social injustices they saw around them.

"There are a lot of frustrations in the health care system," said Amy Tolhurst, Quebec's only parish nurse. Officially she is the parish nurse for the two Presbyterian congregations in Howick, a friendly little village, and Howick United. Unofficially, Tolhurst ministers to anyone who asks. "People tell me what their problems are and we work through it with them. For example, there is a lot of walking people through preparations for surgery. The confidence that they feel, I think that's the difference." Tolhurst is one of a small but growing group of nurses across the country that are helping to heal mind, body and spirit.

In June 2004, Glen Soderholm made an unusual career move. He left a good job with an organization he loved for a pioneering freelance position with few guarantees.

Being a paraplegic doesn't stop Carl Hiebert from flying his own plane around the world, and taking hundreds of photographs. His confinement to a wheelchair, though challenging, actually enables him to take better shots – especially in sensitive situations. "I'm seen as a curiosity rather than a potential threat," said Hiebert. "People are more willing to receive me. It's a more gentle approach."

The task is far from finished. Pieces of Stitched Glass lie incomplete on the floor, knitted art waiting to become stained glass windows of wool. The brightly coloured yarn is woven together to form both images of old — Christ on a cross, a Catholic crusader, the Star of David — and new — an American army helmet, a pink triangle, barbed wire from a Holocaust camp. The play between positive and negative imagery is unmistakably mirroring the ups and downs of the church through time.

Four nominees, many different facets of the church. Rural issues, elder and laity education, international ministries, urban challenges. The nominees focus on these concerns and much more. Although a new candidate can always be nominated at assembly (this year in Edmonton, Alta., in June) these are the forerunners.p>

As the pace of urbanization quickens across the Canadian landscape, rural churches, like the family farm, are simply disappearing. Cooperating, not competing, is key: "If the church can be seen as a place to come together; to talk and to seek community, to not be there to recruit, and to cooperate with other rural churches," says sociology professor William Ramp, "[the church] will draw people in and contribute to keeping that population."

There is a large ranch that lies just off of Highway 24, near 100 Mile House in the interior of B.C. It's around 500 acres of land, including 70 acres of upland fields and 80 acres of meadow. Some of the land is leased out but most is used by Pete and Nichi Bonter, owners of O'Neil Creek Ranch. They run a Hereford-Angus cross cow/calf operation. In order to make ends meet, Pete takes off-ranch jobs: firefighting, logging truck driver, excavator operator. During the summer months, Nichi works part-time. Ginny-Lou Alexander interviewed the Bonters on their ranch.

In the pre-dawn serenity, I unzipped the tent flap and stepped out. With temperatures bracketing the freezing mark, this early morning chill was refreshing. The sky was still a deep, velvety indigo. The sun had just begun to paint a crimson trace on the distant horizon. A delicate mist hung over quietly moving, crystalline waters of the Yukon River. Gently bobbing in the current, a family of loons glided by, fishing in the water.

"Can I help?" I asked tentatively.