As a young boy, I remember a deep fascination with wells. I would stare into there openings, toss stones or the occasional coin into the water or rocky bottoms, and blurt out full sentences while listening to how it might echo as my voice carried down into its depths. Or sometimes, if it were one of those large shallow wishing wells, I would just capture its beautiful architecture while watching the activities of all the people around it. (For a time, I wanted to be an architect.)

Humanity has a rich history and relationship with community wells. Meant not just as an artistic expression of beauty and rooted stability, wells offered a remembrance and source to a shared sustainable life. They were meant to be cherished while also causing us to ask the responsible questions of who is allowed to gather near it, who can draw from it, and whose wisdom and story helps protect and deepen it. Wells didn’t just get drawn from. They also drew people to them.

But wells are not always easy for everyone to find access and acceptance. People who are in the margins of life are often left out of the well space or forgotten about. They can be seen as present, but not really included or involved in the life giving activities of a well embedded life.

For a well centred community culture of belonging to truly flourish, it must find meaning and significance in the balance of practicing diversity, inclusion, and equity together at all times. As a well known phrase Vernā Myers's shared in a speech back in 2015:1

Diversity — Who’s Drawn To The Well?

As a missiologist and house church planter it’s always important to me to know who my neighbours are. Perhaps more in the practicalities of the dis/abled life, neighbours are also who we can rely on when we find ourselves in a pinch.

I don’t know what we would do without our South African friends and neighbours, Luke & Jackie. They have been there at our lowest of lows and highest of highs over the years. Everything from being a listening ear to my wife when I was kept in hospital, running errands for us if we were stuck at home, rescuing us in our van when it got stuck in snow, to hosting and celebrating Easter with our house church community in a campground, and watching movies with us in our home—these are some of the memories of building diversity in our community.

But diversity also means seeing and recognizing the gifts, talents, and presence of the dis/abled and marginalized in our community, as well. Being built fully wheelchair accessible, our home has become a hub for community life in our neighbourhood. Hosting BBQ’s, movie nights, 3 day live streamings of a online conferences to a room of 8-12 people, house concerts, and every prayer gathering and party you can imagine. One of the powers of dis/ability is having an imagination for accessibility to everybody no matter how different or diverse they are in your community.

Ultimately, diversity enlarges a community's capacity for imagination. Without it, a well may still provide water, but it can no longer nourish the fullness of real human life. Communities begin to confuse sameness with unity, overlooking the gifts carried by people whose stories, bodies, and experiences differ from the majority. In doing so, they not only exclude their neighbours—they diminish the life of the whole community.

Inclusion — Who’s Voice Is Heard At The Well?

In its simplest form, inclusion means creating a community where every person is welcomed, valued, and able to participate fully in its shared life. Within the context of dis/ability, inclusion has often been pursued through accessible design, thoughtful policies, and legal protections that ensure dis/abled people can enter spaces once closed to them.

These important steps and advances matter. They open community gates that should never have been locked. Yet inclusion cannot end at the doorways or cutaways in our community paths.

A person may be legally welcomed, physically present, and able to reach the well, while still remaining unseen beside it. Ramps and automatic doors may provide access, but they cannot, on their own, cultivate trust, friendship, or belonging. Access to the well is not the same as being received there. A community becomes truly inclusive only when dis/abled people are not simply accommodated, but recognized as neighbours whose stories, wisdom, leadership, and presence deepen the life of the whole community.

A few weeks ago I was at the ‘Institute on Theology & Disability’s 2026 Conference’. There were so many great conversations, presentations, and people sharing over the three days. But one particular memorable workshop was presented by an African gentleman sharing about how they have attempted to practice inclusion of the dis/abled in the African churches.

With remarkable care and theological depth, they developed a series of denominational policies that articulated what genuine inclusion could look like. I found myself commenting that this level of thoughtfulness is rarely reflected in many North American denominational statements. What struck me most was not simply the commitment to making church buildings accessible, but the vision of empowering, equipping, and cultivating the leadership of dis/abled people within the life of the church.

Yet he also spoke candidly about a painful reality. As he travelled among congregations throughout the countryside, he discovered that many churches had never implemented these policies. Some leaders were unaware they even existed. Others had never been formed by a theology of dis/ability that could sustain them or overcome the ableism already in the community. The denomination had dug a deep well of vision for inclusion, but many local communities had never learned how to draw from it. The policies remained on paper while the practices of belonging failed to take root in the everyday life of the church.

Equity — Who Holds The Rope?

It’s a question of power and how we share it. Who has the power to draw water? And who decides how the well is built, maintained, and shared. And by what authority are they granted this power?

As David Fitch articulated in his Substack post ‘Will We Reckon With Power?’:

In my previous post, I reflected on the truth that every one of us lives with limits. The same is true of power. No single person, group, or perspective possesses everything a community needs to flourish.

Equity is not about giving everyone the same bucket and assuming the task is equal. It begins by recognizing that people encounter different barriers over the course of their life and carry different responsibilities from season to season—dis/abled or not. A flourishing community intentionally shares power, resources, opportunities, and decision-making so that everyone has the ability not only to draw from the well, but also to help tend it.

It’s important to note that for disabled members in communities, this includes decision-making authority, being recognized in the paid leadership, having and building accessible spaces, acknowledging the need for flexible participation, and the expectation that disabled wisdom helps guide the community.2 Our limits or dis/abilities are not signs of weakness; they are invitations to interdependence. Equity is the practice of ensuring that no one person's limits become the reason they are excluded from the shared life of the community.

When the Well Is Out of Balance

These three elements of a culture of Belonging are always engaging with one another, overlapping, and shifting with the tensions of organic community movement. We must always be willing to access how we are balancing these three while not letting one element take priority over the other.

When these three—Diversity, Inclusion, & Equity—stray out of the centralized equilibrium, they can create 3 danger zones:

Inclusion + Equity Without Diversity: The Familiar Well

Inclusion + Diversity Without Equity: The Guarded Well

Equity + Diversity Without Inclusion: The Well w/ Rules For Belonging

Belonging: A Well Deepened by Every Person

Brené Brown writes:

“Spirituality is recognizing and celebrating that we are all inextricably connected to each other by a power greater than all of us, and that our connection to that power and to one another is grounded in love and compassion.”

There is something deeply biblical in her words. At its heart, a culture of belonging is the lived experience of that connection. It is more than being welcomed into a community or invited to participate in it. It is discovering that our lives are intertwined together, that each person’s flourishing—dis/abled or otherwise— is woven into the flourishing of everyone elses.

This is the sacred story God has been telling from the beginning. Through Christ, God is not merely gathering individuals into the same space and calling it church, but reconciling the whole of creation to himself and to one another. Belonging is the fruit of that reconciling work. It is the recognition that we are incomplete apart from one another and the gifts, stories, and presence of our dis/abled and non-dis/abled neighbours.

A flourishing well embodies this vision. Diversity gathers around it. Inclusion ensures every voice is received beside it. Equity places the rope in shared hands. Belonging, however, deepens the well itself and springs up fresh water.

When dis/abled people are welcomed not simply as recipients of care but as leaders, teachers, neighbours, artists, pastors, parents, theologians, and friends, the entire community drinks more deeply from the living water God provides. Their gifts, questions, creativity, resilience, and wisdom do not merely benefit the community—they become part of its shared source of life.

The living water overflows both to and from every person gathered at the well. Each of us arrives thirsty. Each of us leaves refreshed. And each of us bears the shared responsibility of tending the well so that those who come after us will discover that it is deeper because we gathered there together.

Practices for Tending the Well

When you consider how your church or community might foster a greater depth of belonging for those who are dis/abled, consider these practices:

Closing: A Shared Source of Hope

This is the kind of community I have long imagined and hoped for—a well where every person is welcomed, every voice is valued, every gift is needed, and every life helps deepen the shared source from which we all draw.

It has been my experience that the Church still has a lot of work to do before it fully embodies this vision. Too often, our wells have been difficult to reach, carefully guarded, or shaped by assumptions about who truly belongs and in what condition. Yet I always remain hopeful because the story of God has always been one of restoring what has been segregated or marginalized, gathering those who have been scattered or unseen, and inviting every person into the abundance of life together.

If we all—dis/abled and abled—have the courage to keep tending the well—to embrace diversity, practice inclusion, share power through equity, and nurture a culture of belonging—I believe God will continue to fill it with living water. It will become a place where compassion overcomes fear, justice replaces exclusion, and hope is renewed in every relationship.

So let us keep gathering at the well. Let us draw deeply from its waters, learn from one another’s lives, and discover that the well is richer because every person has helped deepen it. For in the kingdom of God, belonging is never a gift offered by just a few able bodied individuals. It is the shared life we create together as we drink from the same living water. A culture of belonging flourishes when diversity gathers at the well, inclusion listens beside it, and equity places the rope in shared hands. Then the water is no longer controlled by a few or offered as a favour. It becomes what it was always meant to be: a shared source of life for the whole community.

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Amy Kenny’s book ‘My Body Is Not A Prayer Request’ taps into this zone. Many dis/abled choose to leave the church or remain unseen from a distance or online so as not to “disrupt” the smooth flowing professional culture of the church community.

Ok. Just some ramblings on something that has been stuck in my head as I see the latest social media fad.

It’s not like I just saw it once. It seems like this latest AI generated photo of a person in a wheelchair who is perfectly balanced on the nose of a skyscraper, as though they climbed to the top themselves, is being shared everywhere. Can we see it as just being an image shared for a few laughs? Maybe.

But, as someone who is in a wheelchair, I find it rather annoying and reflective of a socio-cultural propagandized quip that props up an ableist belief that dis/abled people are existent for the purposes of measuring up to a degree of inspiration that proves “all things are possible”… if we are just willing to work hard enough, spend enough money, and take enough risks to defy all the odds. Essentially, there is no such thing as limitations to human abilities. At least, we would like to believe so.

The thoughts reminded me of a conversation on hope that I had with in this past season’s Well Dweller’s Podcast.1 Paraphrasing it a bit for this context, I asked her:

“What do our limitations destroy for us? And what do they create?”

Building on this, here are a few thoughts to how human limitation can actually create dignity, hope, and character in who we are as dis/abled people.

Limitations Fosters Creativity

Andrew McConnell suggests that creativity struggles to thrive when people have endless opportunities for success. He explains:

“When options are limitless, the decision-making process can be hampered by the paradox of choice. Too many options can lead to decision fatigue, less satisfaction, and a stunted creative process.”

On the other hand, McConnell believes that limitations spark innovation in life skills and personal development:

“Limitations, however, force us to explore depths and angles we wouldn't otherwise consider. They push us to look at resources and solutions right under our noses, to make do and innovate with what we have. It's a mental model that turns scarcity into opportunity.”2

After living with a spinal cord injury for over 30 years, limitations have become a natural part of my identity. They appear at different times and places, often changing in form or intensity. Sometimes, I overcome certain limitations only to encounter new ones.

Ultimately, these limitations create a focus within the boundaries of our defined abilities, encouraging creativity. This creativity can help us test our limits and discover deeper connections to the experiences and relationships we are desiring. When we stop worrying about what we can’t do, we become more innovative about what we can actually achieve. Or perhaps even why we are seeking it in the first place. After all, even our why’s can be falsely motivated by ableist assumptions. Authentic creativity is not making the impossible or unrealistic materialize or become real. As Brené Brown puts it:

Limitations Encourages Prioritization

Speaking of assumptions, while a limitless life offers an amplitude of options for our ambition, the reality is we cannot do all things at once. Responsible prioritization is in a constant entanglement with our moral sense of who we are and who we are becoming.

I absolutely love creative expressionism — writing, podcasting, video production, reading, movies/TV. It doesn’t take long before I get lost in the time and my priorities become out of sync. Dis/abilities also present another level of priorities that most average people do not consider or have — health requirements and care, medical appointments, exercise to maintain daily activities, time constraints because everything takes longer to get done, and relational strain from health care mismanagement.

“I’m so sick and tired of having to workout like an Olympic athlete just to get on and off of the toilet!”

— Dr. Audrey Lim [The Good Doctor]

“Midlife often heightens the feeling that there is not enough time left in life to waste.” Shahram Heshmat writes in his article from Psychology Today. I suppose I am there at 47. But scarcity of time can also be a common theme brought on by physical trauma and chronic health struggles. The dis/abled life seem fleetingly short and questions of what can actually be achieved are strained by the struggle of personal worth and mattering.

With great patience, self-grace, therapy, and a supportive community we can learn to encourage personal and communal practices of prioritization while learning a healthy acceptance of our limitations and the things that really truly matter to us. As Heshmat goes on to point out:

“We overcome the illusion that we can be anything, do anything, and experience everything. We restructure our lives around the needs that are essential. This means that we accept that there will be many things we won’t do in our lives.”4

Limitations Builds Resilience

Over the past 30 years of living in a wheelchair, I have faced countless experiences of trauma and pain, each encounter testing both new and old limitations. It has never been easy. Yet, through realistic prioritization and the lessons of lived experience, I have developed the resilience needed to navigate these shifting challenges with growing confidence.

Craig Fearn captures this mindset well in Unlocking ‘The Potential: The Power Of Realistic Thinking’:

“Realistic thinking helps us tackle today’s complex world head-on. It sharpens our decision-making skills and lets us adapt to change with ease.”5

For years, I have shared with both my disabled and abled friends that change is inevitable. It is not the change itself but rather how we navigate it—how we process new limitations—that weaves resilience into the fabric of who we are.

William Arthur Ward put it succinctly:

By choosing to adjust my sails, I have found renewed strength not in resisting change but in moving with it, turning each limitation into an opportunity for growth.

Limitations Deepens Empathy

“You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” I must admit, these words of Jesus afflicted me greatly in my youth. It wouldn’t be until I was in my later 20’s that I began to understand that Jesus wasn’t expecting perfection in the singular role of personal achievement. Perfection comes through relational compassion, grace, and empathy. As Jesus would later tell his followers, “Apart from me you can do nothing.” Perfection is not self-sufficiency. It is dependence, communion, and love.

Franklin Murphy captures this beautifully:

“Living with imperfection invites us to celebrate our shared humanity rather than compete in an unattainable race toward perfection—a journey where true growth unfolds through acceptance and compassion for ourselves and those around us.”6

Ableism resists this vision because it teaches us to measure human worth by independence, productivity, and exceptional performance. It celebrates disabled people only when they accomplish extraordinary feats that reassure the non-disabled world — such as climbing a skyscraper, becoming an inspirational spectacle, or proving they have somehow overcome dis/ability itself. If we are not extraordinary, we are often rendered invisible. If we are visible, it is too often as the object of pity, inspiration, or comedy.

Our cultural stories reveal the same pattern. Even today, dis/abled characters are remarkably rare in film and television. Earlier I mentioned Dr. Audrey Lim from ‘The Good Doctor’. After surviving a brutal knife attack that severed her spinal cord, she became a paraplegic in a wheelchair. For a brief moment, a popular television series allowed a respected surgeon to continue her life and vocation as a dis/abled woman. Yet in an all to familiarly and painfully turn, only a few months later she underwent a miraculous surgery that restored her to an able-bodied life.7 Once again, dis/ability became something to escape rather than a way of being human.

These stories and the way we treat dis/abled in our community matter, fictional or not, because they shape our imaginations and world view. They quietly reinforce the belief that the best ending is always the disappearance of dis/ability rather than the flourishing of dis/abled lives.

When we are willing to recognize human limitation—including dis/ability—not as a defect belonging to a few but as a shared reality of being human, our capacity for empathy begins to deepen. We stop asking people to become more like us in order to belong. Instead, we discover that community is strengthened precisely because our lives are different. Our shared dignity is not found in our sameness but in our mutual interdependence, where every person’s life becomes a gift to the whole.

A Final Thought…

Recently, my friend wrote an intriguing post called ‘Why AI Can’t Replace Character or Presence’. Being that I started this post rambling on about an AI generated photo of a person in a wheelchair at the top of a skyscraper, I think we should close with a final thought to ponder.

Keith highlights wisely that:

“Greed and power certainly drive parts of the development, but the uptake on a societal scale, I think, comes in large part from a desire to overcome our experienced limitations.”9

Perhaps the question isn’t whether AI can generate impossible images. Of course it can. The deeper question is why those are the stories we are so eager to share and talk about.

Why does an impossible image of a woman in a wheelchair conquering a skyscraper resonate more deeply than the ordinary courage of someone navigating inaccessible streets, raising a family, building friendships, pursuing meaningful work, or simply learning to live well within the realities of dis/ability? Why are we so captivated by fantasies of escaping limitation instead of stories of flourishing within them?

AI is neither inherently good nor inherently evil — something even I struggle with at times. Like every human tool before it, it will amplify the values of those who create and use it. If our imaginations are shaped by ableism, AI will reproduce ableism as we use it. If our imaginations are shaped by dignity, interdependence, and compassion, AI can help tell those stories instead.

Our calling as image bearers of our creator is not to erase human limitation but to honour it as part of what makes us human — dis/abled or not. The dis/abled life does not need to be rewritten into a story of impossible triumphs to possess beauty, dignity, or hope. Those things are already present—in creativity born from constraint, resilience forged through change, communities strengthened by interdependence, and love deepened through shared vulnerability.

Let’s stop filling our feeds with fantasies that teach us to despise limitation. Instead, let’s tell stories that reveal the quiet strength of ordinary lives—stories that remind us that our greatest achievement is not overcoming our humanity, but learning to embrace it together in all its characters and presence!

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Leading within Limits

The Allure of Efficiency

I was putting together slides for a workshop on grief and loss I’d been asked to lead at an upcoming conference…

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a month ago · 2 likes · 4 comments · Keith Dow

[Recording/Video Disclosure: There are moments of echoing in the audio which also disrupt the subtitles in the video from necessarily always being correct. I’m still learning how to be a better Podcaster! Thank you for your grace! And my apologies!!]

There are moments in life when the stories we’ve inherited no longer seem to fit the lives we are living.

Sometimes it is an unexpected diagnosis. Sometimes it is the trauma grief or injury. Sometimes it is exclusion by the very communities that taught us what we thought belonging should look like. Sometimes it is watching institutions we once trusted struggle under the weight of certainty, power, and performance. Whatever the catalyst, many of us eventually arrive at a place where our faith feels less like something we possess and more like something that is quietly unraveling within… and/or around us.

For generations, we’ve often been taught to fear that unraveling.

invites us to see it differently.

In Blessed Are the Undone: Testimonies of the Quiet Deconstruction of Faith in Canada, she and co-author Peter Schuurman offer a profoundly hopeful vision of what happens when certainty gives way to honesty. Rather than treating deconstruction as failure, Angela describes it simply as “faith undone.” It is not necessarily the end of belief, but perhaps the beginning of a more truthful one.

As she says in our conversation:

“Deconstruction is normative... it’s actually needed.”

Those words stayed with me long after we finished recording.

In retrospect following our talk I realized even more deeply that for those of us in the disabled community, being “undone” is rarely just a metaphor. It is often the reality of living in systems that were never designed with us in mind. It is learning to navigate exclusion while still longing for belonging. It is carrying grief and hope together. It is discovering that dependence is not weakness but part of what it means to be human. It is a life of sacred unravelling.

Perhaps that is why Angela’s work resonated with me so deeply.

Throughout this conversation, we explore what it means to become undone without losing ourselves. We wrestle with the church’s fear of deconstruction, the relationship between disability and spiritual formation, prophetic imagination, reconciliation, justice, and the quiet ways God continues to meet people whose lives no longer resemble the stories they once believed.

One of my favourite moments comes when I ask Angela whether undoneness is a form of grace rather than failure.

Her response is one I hope lingers with you also:

That distinction matters.

Not a prosperity gospel blessing.

Not a polished, Instagram-ready faith.

But a blessing that forms humility, compassion, and deeper dependence upon God and one another.

Later in our conversation, Angela reflects on Isaiah’s declaration, “Woe is me, I am undone,” reminding us that Scripture consistently portrays people who encounter God not through triumph but through disruption. Jacob leaves his encounter with God limping. Israel learns to rebuild while living in exile. Again and again, blessing emerges not despite brokenness but within it.

I found myself wondering whether that pattern also names something essential about the disabled experience.

Perhaps disability does not simply expose our vulnerability.

Perhaps it reveals something true about all humanity.

Not that we are all somehow dis/abled by definition. And not that interdependence is a defect to overcome. But that dis/ability is part of God’s design for creation and reconciled through a story of unravelling to who we are to become in this world and the next.

That is a vision of the Gospel our churches desperately need to experience, live, and embody.

One of the convictions I carried away from this conversation is that the Church needs more stories from disabled voices—not because our experiences are separate from everyone else’s, but because they illuminate the Gospel in ways many have never been invited to see. Our stories are not peripheral to the Christian imagination; they help enlarge it.

If you have ever felt yourself questioning...

If your faith has become quieter than it once was...

If certainty has given way to curiosity...

If you have lived in the tension between exclusion and belonging...

Or if you simply long to discover a faith spacious enough to hold both lament and hope...

...then I think you’ll find yourself somewhere in this conversation.

Perhaps becoming undone is not the opposite of faith.

Perhaps it is one of the ways Christ gently remakes us.

I hope you’ll join Angela Reitsma Bick and me as we dwell together at the bottom of the well.

Chapters:

01:08 Beginning an Adventure

10:01 Undoneness & Sacred Unravelling

19:49 Deconstruction & Places of Exile

22:56 Suffering & Sufferers

25:04 Healing, Erasure, & Learning from Dis/abled Bodies

32:45 Practices of Community & a Culture of Belonging

37:46 Inclusion or Belonging?

41:51 Jesus as the Shepherd of the Undone

45:26 Contemplation Within Activism

48:54 Who’s Responsibility is it for Shaping the Dis/abled Spiritual Life?

52:47 Intersections with the Indigenous & Reconciliation Story

57:44 Jesus Therapy

1:00:52 Undone & the Myth of the “Normal Body”

1:04:32 Hope That Creates vs. Hope That Destroys

1:14:10 New Adventures Unravelling on the Horizons

Resources:

There is a kind of justice that can be discussed endlessly in committee meetings, debated in political arenas, and analyzed in theological classrooms. It can be measured, quantified, legislated, and systematized. Yet there is another kind of justice—one that cannot be understood from a distance because it must first be encountered in a person.

In this episode of The Well Dwellers Podcast, I sit down with to discuss his book ‘The Justice of Jesus’. What unfolds is not merely a conversation about social ethics or church activism. It is a deeper exploration of what happens when justice is rooted not in ideology, but in the person of Christ.

As Joash writes:

“My hope is that on completing this book, you’ll walk away with practices and ideas to help your faith community prioritize justice work that flows from your hope in Jesus.”

That distinction matters.

Too often, justice becomes detached from discipleship. It becomes another project, another program, another cause to support. But Joash reminds us that Christian justice begins with proximity. It begins by learning to see Christ where society least expects Him to be found.

As he says during our conversation:

Together we wrestle with questions that sit close to the heart of this podcast:

• What happens when the church views disabled people primarily as problems to be solved rather than teachers to be heard?

• What if accessibility is not first a policy issue but a relationship issue?

• What if healing is not the only lens through which we understand the work of Jesus?

• And what if the margins are not simply places where ministry happens, but places where Jesus is already present, waiting for the church to arrive?

One of the most powerful moments in our conversation comes when Joash reflects on Christ’s encounters with disabled people throughout the Gospels:

That observation opens a larger question. How often has the church spoken about disabled people without listening to disabled people? How often have we assumed what flourishing should look like for others rather than learning from their experience?

Throughout our conversation, we explore how disabled communities challenge the church’s addiction to certainty, productivity, and hierarchy. We reflect on the ways vulnerability can become a site of revelation rather than deficiency. We discuss why justice requires more than compassion—it requires solidarity.

Joash offers a vision of the church that echoes the heart of the Gospel itself:

Those words linger.

Because perhaps the greatest barrier facing the church is not a lack of theology, resources, or programs. Perhaps it is a failure of imagination. A failure to believe that Christ might be speaking through voices we have not yet learned to hear.

As we conclude the conversation, I offer this reflection:

My hope is that this conversation does more than inform. I hope it unsettles us. I hope it invites us deeper. And I hope it helps us cultivate the eyes to see Jesus where He has always been—among those the world has overlooked.

Arm in arm, may we continue to seek justice and find it in the margins where we are told not to look.

Chapters:

00:26 Meeting Joash Thomas

06:05 Justice As A System; Justice As A Person

13:35 A Church’s Posture To The Marginalized

24:39 Cultivating Eyes To See Jesus

44:20 Take Up Your Cross… Arm In Arm

46:52 Would You Do Anything Differently?

49:26 Closing Words

Resources:

Masala Chai Theology with Fr. Joash P. Thomas

Spicing up our spiritual journeys with ancient, Empire-resisting, liberative, and precolonial Christian ways of understanding God and neighbour.

There are some conversations that feel less like interviews and more like sitting beside someone at the edge of a deep well, lowering buckets into places you do not usually allow yourself to look.

My conversation with Dr. Richard Beck was one of those encounters.

I first met Richard years ago while completing my Master’s degree under the guidance of my professor and friend Dr. Mark Love. Even then, Richard carried a way of speaking that refused easy answers. His work has always lingered around the edges of fear, mortality, desire, shame, joy, and the strange human habit of hiding from our own vulnerability. His books — The Slavery of Death, Unclean, The Shape of Joy, and now The Book of Love — have consistently challenged me to reconsider what it means to be human in a culture obsessed with control, success, and certainty.

This conversation felt especially personal.

As someone living with disability, I often find myself navigating the tension between suffering and meaning, endurance and hope, frustration and joy. Richard’s work gave language to realities I had felt for years but struggled to articulate — especially the ways fear quietly shapes both our theology and our social imagination.

At one point Richard says:

“We become radically inhospitable to bodies or lives or experiences that bring finitude into view.”

That sentence stayed with me.

Because disability often functions as precisely that kind of interruption. It exposes the illusion that independence is ultimate. It unsettles the modern obsession with optimization, productivity, and bodily perfection. It reveals how deeply both church and society are discipled by fear — fear of weakness, fear of limitation, fear of dependence, fear of death itself.

And yet, this conversation is not merely about critique.

It is about what becomes possible when we stop running.

Throughout our dialogue, Richard reflects on the “unholy trinity” of Satan, sin, and death — not primarily as abstract doctrines, but as forces shaping everyday human existence through anxiety, scarcity, self-protection, and accusation. We explored how ableism often emerges not through overt cruelty, but through hidden assumptions embedded in systems, architecture, theology, and culture.

In one of the most striking moments of our conversation, Richard described ableism as a kind of invisible accusation:

“The invisible assumptions rank bodies in a hierarchy of worth or consideration.”

That naming felt painfully true.

But there were also moments of profound beauty.

As we discussed suffering, resurrection, and the disabled experience of endurance, Richard offered words I have not stopped thinking about since:

“How do I dance between the sunlight and the shadows of that mixed experience?”

That may be one of the most honest descriptions of disability, grief, and even human existence I have ever heard.

Not triumphalism.
Not despair.
But dancing between sunlight and shadow.

We also explored the church’s failures — especially its tendency to rush too quickly toward healing narratives, resurrection fantasies, or inspirational clichés that bypass the lived reality of disabled people. Richard gently but honestly challenged this instinct:

“People quickly reach for heaven… without sitting with ambiguity, pain, and suffering.”

And perhaps that is where this conversation ultimately lands: not in certainty, but in wonder.

What if joy is not the absence of suffering, but a posture toward reality?
What if healing is larger than cure?
What if disabled lives are not problems to solve, but prophetic witnesses calling the church toward a deeper humanity?
What if the good news is not escape from finitude, but discovering that love can still flourish within it?

Toward the end of our conversation, Richard reflected on the church as both broken and beautiful — often inhospitable, often fearful, yet still capable of becoming something holy when people make room for one another in honesty and love.

He said:

“The disabled community functions to point us toward that horizon that we’re all trying to chase.”

I think he is right.

And perhaps that horizon is not perfection, normalcy, or independence.

Perhaps it is communion.

Perhaps it is learning how to belong to one another inside fragility rather than beyond it.

Perhaps it is discovering that even here — in weakness, ambiguity, grief, and unfinished stories — joy still takes shape.

I hope this conversation encourages you as deeply as it encouraged me.

Welcome back to the well.

Chapters:

00:27 Meeting Dr. Richard Beck

06:06 The Anti-Trinity & The Fear of Death

13:50 Hospitality For Finitude

17:59 Ableism Incarnated As The Accuser

25:12 Sin & The Conditions of Entrapment

33:01 The Myth of the Quick Fix & The Endurance of Time

44:07 Transcendent Joy & Hero Games

54:51 Looking For The Good News In Disabled Discipleship

01:01:41 Closing With Outward Hope

Resources:

Experimental Theology with Richard Beck

Drawing Large and Startling Figures

Saunders Centre For Joy & Human Flourishing: https://acu.edu/library/saunders-center/

Today I was trying something new while out for my morning 4km wheel around the neighbourhood. Offered a month free trial of Audible, I started ’s book ‘Blessed Are The Undone: Testimonies of the Quiet Deconstruction of Faith in Canada’. Honestly, I’m not a big audible book fan. I like sitting with the pages in my hand while slowly soaking in the written content. Just look at my socials and you will find an abundance of authors and quotes to which I sat with and digested. But I digress from why I am sharing this with you.

Reaching chapter 4, I was immediately grabbed by the provocative title: ‘We Were ‘All In’. I know from previous conversations with Angela that she wrote this book, and subsequently this chapter title, over several years ago with the book being published 2 years ago, itself. AND YET… in a few weeks time Terry Sanderson, is preparing to give a denominational address at the Alliance Canada General Assembly he is calling… “All In Alliance”.

I couldn’t help but connect the two phrases while wondering if this was Terry’s attempt to send some kind of metaphorical “shot across the bow” of a social (and perhaps spiritual) shift towards an ecumenical movement? In essence, “return to the status quo of the accepted ‘IN’ parameters. Or find yourself to be sent to the outskirts of the city.” Perhaps we might use another term for such liminal spaces and call it Galgotha. How’s that for metaphorical?!

Ok. So returning to chapter 4 of Angela’s book. She sets the stage beautifully for both sides of the city pendulum giving a description of the Liberal space first saying:

“To deconstruct, you need a building with walls and a roof. Liberal churches seem to have a few walls, blurred boundaries, and loose connections. Some conservative churches built their walls too high and the doors too small. What is endearing and warm — and problematic and painful — is that they are tight communities where the social fabric is thick and everyone knows everyone else. These churches turn a temporary canoe camp made into a more permanent compound with a fence.”

Having been part of a House Church movement for many years, I can identify with some of the strengths and weaknesses she articulates here. It was Richard Beck (who by the way will be my next guest on the Well Dwellers Podcast 😉) who challenged me several years ago by asking about heresy in the house church movement that left me pondering just how loosely we hold onto the gospel.

But that does not loose sight of the equally polarizing other end of the pendulum as Angela depicts the hyper Conservative vision:

“The Faith prediction of some of the undone did not think too much about environmental issues, the plate and promise of the indigenous people of Canada, or the long, checkered history of the Christian Church. Their tradition often held to a strict nuclear family ethic that champion the male/female dyad and shunned the dominant cultures swift endorsement of same-sex marriage. While none were overly racist, resisting systemic racism was not an ethical priority. Life was about church, holiness, family, and being good productive Canadian citizens. It was focussed on the Bible as the truth in text. A conservative Faith framed the family, learning, work — everything. They were ‘all in.’”

Here is where the problem lies… If all we are about is being “All In” to the ideological centres of our theological campus, we will never experience the blessings of the Spirit calling US to stretch beyond our own blindedness. As chapter 4 concludes:

“Change cannot be avoided. And alive, growing, culturally engaged. Faith cannot remain static, or it will be stunted in its constant quest for self preservation. It will suffer the pains that come with denying and avoid avoiding the issues that inevitably arise in any community. Even orthodoxy needs fresh restating and contextualizing to the cultural moment. It is our firm conviction that some sort of deconstruction is normal for growth — whether it takes the shape of falling away, repentance, or the quiet reconstruction that we call sanctification.”

Lets be real here, the work of sanctification is not meant to be easy. Its not meant to be comfortable and reconciled with a confidence of perfectionism. Its uneasy, grinding, fearfully, and wonderfully worked out through messiness and the promise of returning to new quests of metanoia and asking what transformation are we to consider next in looking like for Christlikeness?

The first Council of the Christian Church seemed to rely on the understanding that for guidance they are not looking towards Peter’s “All In” mandates. To become the community that the triune God was truly calling them to be, it had to “seem good to US… and the Holy Spirit”.

I’m no biblical scholar or expert theologian, but it seemed to me that Jesus did not consider “All In” to be the measure to live for, either”. It seems to me he was more moved by a Spirit to embody the life of being “All Out”! Ya, I think I like that more for an embodying call.

I AM ALL OUT FOR JESUS!!

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On this episode of the Well Dwellers Podcast, I sit down with my former professor, longtime friend, and missional theologian Dr. Mark Love for a conversation that moves through disability, discernment, grief, belonging, and the future of the church.

What unfolds is not simply a discussion about accessibility or inclusion, but a deeper interrogation of the church’s imagination. Together, we explore how the church often frames disabled people as recipients of care rather than as bearers of wisdom, presence, and theological insight. Mark reflects candidly on the failures of the missional movement to fully embody its theology and challenges churches to move beyond cosmetic welcome toward genuine participation and shared life.

Drawing from Acts 15 and his book It Seems Good to the Holy Spirit and to Us, Mark describes discernment not as a strategy for church growth, but as a communal practice of listening — one rooted in bodies, tables, grief, and relationship. We wrestle with difficult questions surrounding cure theology, accessibility, advocacy, and why so many churches continue asking why disabled people are absent instead of asking what has made belonging impossible.

One of the most striking moments comes as Mark reflects on the church’s responsibility in public life:

“The church would bear responsibility at several levels. The first is at the advocacy level… not speaking for disabled people, but giving them an opportunity to speak and to be heard.”

He continues:

“It is ethically and morally a part of the gospel to vote that way… not for our own comfort and well-being, but for the widow, the orphan, the disabled.”

This conversation is deeply personal, theological, and at times uncomfortable — but in the best possible way. It is an invitation to reimagine what it means to belong to one another as the body of Christ.

We also somehow manage to talk about Bob Dylan, Gary Clark Jr., vinyl records, discernment practices, and why the church might need fewer stages and longer tables.

If you’ve ever wondered whether the church has overlooked disabled voices — or what the Spirit might be saying through those at the margins — this conversation is meant for you.

Chapters:

00:31 Meeting Mark

06:07 Hard Truths For The Missional Church

16:43 Looking Towards An Evolving Missional Movement

24:14 From Stages To Tables

25:57 It Seems Good To Us & The Holy Spirit

33:11 Who Bears The Burden?

38:02 Dis/abled & Missional Ears For Dwelling In The Word

46:02 Reframing Social Justice For The Local Church — Advocate, Vote, & Empower

55:56 Introducing The 1582 Collaborative

1:04:23 Bob Dylan & Some Fun Before We Go

Resources:

Dei-liberations

My personal Substack

By Mark Love

There’s something about stories—especially the ones that stay with us long after the credits roll.

In this episode of the Well Dwellers Podcast, Erik Freiburger sits down once again with Dr. Ty Ragan for a conversation that moves through galaxies far, far away… and lands squarely in the heart of our own spiritual lives.

Together, they explore Star Wars not just as entertainment, but as theology in motion—a living parable of good and evil, fear and love, belonging and redemption. As Erik reflects early in the conversation, “stories shape us long before doctrines do.” And perhaps that’s exactly why stories like these matter so much.

What unfolds is a deeply imaginative and provocative dialogue around APEST—the apostolic, prophetic, evangelistic, shepherding, and teaching gifts of the church—and how these missional expressions might already be hiding in the characters and narratives we know so well.

“What if the characters and worlds of Star Wars help us imagine what APEST looks like in real life?”

From Luke Skywalker’s journey through the gray spaces of identity, to Leia’s apostolic leadership, to the shepherding presence of unlikely characters like Chewbacca and the Mandalorian, this episode invites listeners to see the gospel not as static doctrine—but as a dynamic, unfolding story.

Ty brings psychological depth to the conversation, drawing on thinkers like Jung and Campbell, reminding us that:

“You are the main character of your own story, while at the same time you’re playing a supporting cast member to other stories.”

And perhaps that’s where this episode really begins to press in—on the tension between empire and rebellion, between control and community, between rigid religious systems and the wild, relational movement of the Spirit.

There are moments here that challenge the church directly:

“Are we here to serve the empire of the church… or is there something dynamically different?”

And others that reimagine what spiritual formation could look like if we dared to take story seriously:

“What if you treated a film like you would a piece of scripture… and let it speak to the community as they are gathered?”

This is a conversation about imagination—about reclaiming it, trusting it, and allowing it to reawaken something within us that doctrine alone sometimes cannot reach.

It’s about disability, belonging, and the prophetic call to reshape our communities.

It’s about the dark side within us—and the hope that redemption is never entirely out of reach.

And maybe most of all, it’s about learning to see again.

So whether you’re a lifelong Star Wars fan, a theologian, a skeptic, or someone simply searching for meaning in the middle of your own story—this episode invites you to step into the myth… and discover what it might be saying about your life, your faith, and the world we’re all trying to build together.

Chapters:

00:32 Opening Scenes

04:20 The Truth In Sci Fi

12:41 Roles Star Wars Plays In Shaping Good & Evil

19:25 The Story Of A Rebellious Movement

25:37 The Force & The Gifts Of APEST

34:08 Apostolic

46:29 Prophetic

54:03 Evangelism

1:05:04 Shepherding

1:11:27 Teaching

1:14:00 Psychology Of The Dark Side

1:20:10 Closing Scenes

Resources:

A Monk's Musings

Shepherd Sunday

Ah another geeky or cheaky subtitle. Today in church’s around the world, the lectionary would take one through the readings for Good Shepherd Sunday, in the Eastertide (Time of Easter) Fourth Sunday of Easter…

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3 months ago · 1 like · Ty Ragan, Psy.D.

Andrew Camp

Why the Table Is Needed Now

Daily we are confronted with headlines that demand our attention, our “hot takes,” and often our vitriol. Just this morning, I woke up to the news that the United States had launched an attack on Iran—the latest in a series of moves made by the current administration seemingly to sow chaos across the country and the world…

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4 months ago · 3 likes · Andrew Camp

It is hard for me to know where to start. Everywhere I seem to look, it seems like so many battle lines of conflict are being drawn. As someone who has existed as a sort of nomad, I found a bit of comfort hiding in my prophetic cave in the wilderness while trying to pretend the earthquake that was happening under me and the firestorm out side the cavernous opening had little affect or impact on me. Try as I might, it seems more and more difficult to remain hidden in the shadows.

It wasn’t that I am without my own theological principles. More so, it was that my principles were able to be held in value without having to defend or enter the fray of the polarizing elements of world opinion. I am/was a nobody. And in some ways, I did not mind being so invisible.

Years ago I was confronted after presenting a proposal for a community ministry movement largely shaped by my missional theological values. It was shot down while questioning the potential “heresies” of such activities. I still remember sitting in a room where a denominational member of higher leadership turned to my pastor and said, “Yeah, we still are not sure what we are to do with these types of people.” It was my first taste of being accused directly of heretical deconstructional belief. Told I was seen as a “outside identity”, I moved on to growing a house church movement on my own. Ironically, as I told my pastor it would happen, Missional theology principles would be embraced by the denomination a few years later as the “next greatest thing”. By this time, I had long left the four walls of institutionalism. I don’t think I have signed a Doctrine of Membership Belief since.

Over the last few years, it seems this requirement of doctrinal submission or excommunication is rising once more. Academic theological exploration of doctrinal values are being challenged and repressed. Denominational institutions are siloing into defensive and exclusive positions. It is becoming more and more uncomfortable and discouraged to sit at the same communal table with those you may theologically be in difference of. Iron no longer sharpens iron. And wisdom is diluted by being comfortably numb as apposed to opening oneself to the punning of the Spirit and the submission to the unrecognized gardener. (John 20:14-16)

I am struggling heavily with the question:

The thought drew me back to the story of a woman (and man, for that matter) who were caught in adultery. The question of “Sin’s” involved I truly believe are probably far more complex then just the woman’s guilt or not. That is perhaps something to explore another time. Still, she was brought before Jesus with the question of, “What are we to do?”

Bending over, Jesus began to draw lines in the sand and told the religious leaders, “Let those who are without sin cast the first stone.” It wasn’t long before the accusers began to dissipate and disappear.

The truth is my theological positions in these arguments today are ones that draw me to the work and call of my heavenly Father. The intersections of such work keep me rooted in a firmament that provides both affirmation and fertilization that spurs growth and soulful challenge amidst doctrinal and principle differences. I do not agree with everything my marginalized relational connections believe. But nor do I feel the disempowerment of those differences uprooting the very powerful proximity we all share in with our creator. It is not my responsibility or place of authority to draw those lines in the sand. That is the place and authority for my Lord and Saviour’s hands.

Recently I came across the reference to Scot McKnight’s latest publication ‘Traumatized Church’. He writes with the effort in pairing theological insights with counseling expertise to guide readers through the four R's of trauma care: Realize, Recognize, Respond, and Resist.

As the Disability movement in the living church looks towards the future of its initiatives both in identity and in intersectionality, I find myself wondering how these four R’s might shape the disability theology and spirituality of its members. If nothing else, those of us in the disabled life should be masters of navigating trauma. Perhaps the future of the greater Church might depend on us for this!

There are conversations that feel like moving onto steady ground—comforting, relaxed, and affirming. Then there are conversations that feel more like moving onto sacred ground—holy, creative, and life altering.

This is one of those.

In this episode of the Well Dwellers Podcast, I sit down with Keith Dow for a dialogue that moves us beyond tidy theology and into the messy, beautiful, and often disruptive realities of being human together. This is not a conversation about disability from a distance. It is a conversation shaped by proximity—by shared life, mutual care, and what Keith calls the undeniable truth that “we were shaped and changed by each other… they represented God to me… and I represented God to them.”

Together, we wrestle with what it means to be made in the image of God—not as an abstract doctrine, but as something encountered in hospital rooms, in moments of fear and vulnerability, and in relationships that refuse to fit our categories. Keith names this tension honestly: “We often don’t understand ourselves… let alone those around us… so what is the ethical disposition?”

And maybe that’s where this conversation begins—not with certainty, but with posture.

A posture of curiosity.
A posture of mutuality.
A posture that dares to believe, as we explore together, that “true care is mutual care.”

Throughout this episode, we explore:

• How disability disrupts the “norms that govern recognition” and reveals deeper truths about humanity

• Why the church’s obsession with efficiency, productivity, and cognitive ability may be silencing the very voices we need most

• How art, culture, and embodied experience open new ways of encountering God beyond words

• And what it might look like to become communities where, in my own words, “dignity is not conditional… and interdependence is holy.”

There are moments in this conversation that feel like wrestling—like Jacob in the night—where theology is no longer clean or controlled, but lived, felt, and risked. Keith describes one such moment as “this picture of wrestling… trying to protect… and trying to understand… a desire to connect… to make sense of the world together.”

And maybe that’s the invitation for all of us.

To move beyond theology as information…
Into theology as encounter.
Into lives where vulnerability is not weakness—but wisdom.

So wherever you find yourself today—whether in certainty or in questions, in strength or in limitation—I invite you to lean in.

Because this conversation might just change how you see others…
…and how you see God.

Welcome to the bottom of the well.

Chapters:

00:31 An Invitation Into Sacred Ground

10:12 Discovering A Heart Of Mutual Care

21:17 Disrupting Postures Of Holiness

27:17 Disrupting The Norms Of Discipleship

33:56 Disrupting The Norms Of Culture

40:40 Banquet Of Belonging

44:25 Closing

Resources:

Keith Dow’s Website: https://keithdow.com/

Images of God: https://imagesofgod.ca/

Disability and Faith: https://disabilityandfaith.org/author/kdow/

Cross Training Theology & Psychology: https://crosstrainingpsychologyandtheology.com/researcher/keith-dow/

Formed Together: Mystery, Narrative, and Virtue in Christian Caregiving By Keith Dow: Available HERE

Deeper Communion Seeing The Kingdom Together: https://adeepercommunion.org/

Upcoming Events:

What if worship isn’t primarily about what we offer to God—but about what God is already doing within us?

In this deeply thoughtful and honest conversation, Erik Freiburger sits down with Kirsten Schmaus to explore how worship is shaped, disrupted, and reimagined through the lens of disability, embodiment, and community. Together, they invite us to move beyond performance-driven expressions and into something far more vulnerable, relational, and real.

As Erik frames early on, “it is not primarily about fixing worship, but about listening to what worship is already revealing—about God, about bodies, and about who belongs at the center of our shared life together.”

Kirsten brings years of experience in worship leadership and theological reflection, naming a critical shift many churches must wrestle with: “We run the risk of becoming the primary actor… and we forget that all worship is initiated by God, and that we respond.”
This reframing moves worship from performance to participation—from control to submission.

Together, Erik and Kirsten name how contemporary worship spaces can unintentionally mirror ableist assumptions—prioritizing polish, perfection, and predictability over presence, participation, and belonging. As Kirsten insightfully notes, practices like pre-recorded tracks can subtly communicate that “everything needs to move forward perfectly… and that is not welcoming, really.”

But this conversation is not merely critique—it is invitation.

An invitation to imagine worship spaces where bodies are not managed but received…
Where scars are not hidden but honored…
Where lament is not avoided but embraced as faithful worship.

In one of the most powerful moments of the episode, Kirsten reflects on leading worship the day after the tragic loss of her brother: “I don’t even know how to be in the world right now… but I do know how to worship.”
Here, worship becomes not triumph, but trust. Not escape, but presence.

This episode also explores:

• The tension between expressive vs. formational worship

• How ableism can shape liturgy, music, and leadership structures

• The possibility of worship as justice enacted in real time

• The beauty of communal, embodied practices like shared tables and Eucharist

• And what it means to create “submissive spaces”—where we yield not to performance, but to the Spirit’s movement among us

At its heart, this conversation asks a provocative and necessary question:

What happens when disabled wisdom is not simply accommodated—but received as a gift?

Come listen in as we explore “the first move” of worship—not ours, but God’s—and what it might mean to follow that movement into deeper belonging, deeper honesty, and a more authentic life together.

Chapters:

00:47 Opening

03:30 A Fun Start

08:10 Worship Formation

15:39 An Ever Evolving Embodiment of Worship

20:29 Looking For Justice

28:21 When Breakthrough Doesn’t Happen

38:25 Restorative Justice At Work

48:01 Put Your Hands In My Scars

53:03 Banquet Of Belonging

57:46 Closing

Resources:

James k.A. Smith Books:

• ‘Desiring The Kingdom’ — Here

• ‘You Are What You Love’ — Here

Rosemarie Garland-Thomson

• ‘Extrodinary Bodies’ — Here

Amos Young

• ‘The Bible, Disability, and the Church: A New Vision of the People of God’ — Here

Judith Butler

• ‘Bodies That Matter: On the Discursive Limits of Sex’ — Here

Nancy Eiesland

• ‘The Disabled God: Toward a Liberatory Theology of Disability’ — Here

In this episode of the Well Dwellers Podcast, Erik Freiburger welcomes back his friend, theologian, and fellow traveler Dr. Michael Morelli. Michael teaches theological ethics, helps lead the Lazarus Center in Langley, British Columbia, and writes the thoughtful Substack . But perhaps more importantly, he speaks as someone whose life has been shaped by community, chronic illness, and a deep reflection on what it means to be human before God.

The conversation begins simply—with stories of Italian food, family, and a shared love for music—but it soon moves into deeper waters: disability identity, the language we use to describe one another, the nature of belonging in the church, and the role emerging technologies like AI may play in shaping our future.

Along the way, Michael reminds us that our understanding of disability cannot be separated from our understanding of what it means to be human:

“If we are created by a God, then that means we’re creatures… we have potential, but we also have limits. And to be a creature is to experience those limits.”

Together, Erik and Michael explore how Christian theology might help us move beyond narrow labels and toward a deeper sense of shared creatureliness—one that sees our limitations not as defects, but as part of the beautiful complexity of being human.

This conversation also touches on loneliness, friendship, the failures and possibilities of technology, and the calling of the church to become a community where people are not simply accommodated—but truly belong.

In another word from Michael, he reflects:

“The older I get, the more I appreciate the power of friendship and community… sometimes we understand ourselves best through the people who truly see us.”

So settle in for a thoughtful and wide-ranging conversation—one that invites us all to wake up a little more fully to the gift of being human together.

Chapters

00:30 Intro & The Desires Of A Foodie

08:22 Personal Connections With A Disabled Life

15:40 Models Of Disability

28:24 Finding Meaning Through Community

36:53 Is Having A Disability Ministry Important?

42:02 AI And Where Are We Between Immortality And The Apocalypse?

1:03:59 Acknowledging The Tensions Between Silos & Intersectionality

1:11:26 Deeper Communion’s ‘Banquet Of Belonging’

1:21:19 Closing

Resources & Links:

—

Personalist Manifesto(s)

Conversations for a contemplative revolution.

The Lazarus Center (Langley, BC):

https://www.thelazaruscentre.org/

Canadian Journal Of Theology, Mental Health, & Disability Article:

https://jps.library.utoronto.ca/index.php/cjtmhd/article/view/46679

The Banquet of Belonging isn’t just a fabled dream — it is something that happens when people gather around a table of hospitality, share stories, and discover they are not alone.

Join us Wednesday evening for a relaxed dessert night as Ron & Teresa Buschman share conversation with Erik & Bonnie Freiburger about marriage, relationships, and building a life together while navigating spinal cord injuries and disability for most of their lives. Centred around dessert and conversation, they’ll share honest stories of love, challenge, humour, faith, and the unexpected ways disability can shape partnership and deepen connection with one another and the communities we are a part of.

Like any good banquet, this evening isn’t about having all the right answers — it’s about gathering together, listening well, and discovering how belonging grows when we learn to support one another with vulnerability, grace, and mutual care.

Come enjoy dessert, settle in, and be part of a conversation that reminds us God’s table is wide, welcoming, and always being expanded.

Conversational Presenters

Ron and Teresa Buschman Bio

Ron and Teresa Buschman have been married for over four decades and are passionate about helping couples build strong, healthy, and life-giving marriages.

They have been part of First Alliance Church in Calgary for many years, where they have served in a variety of leadership and volunteer roles. Their heart has been investing in marriages — walking alongside couples, facilitating marriage courses, mentoring, and creating spaces where relationships can grow and thrive. They previously served as Couples’ Ministry Coordinators and continue to be actively involved in supporting and encouraging couples in every season of marriage.

Ron and Teresa are trained facilitators for a number of marriage and relationship tools and have led workshops, small groups, and mentoring experiences both within the church and in partnership with organizations like Focus on the Family. Their approach is practical, honest, and grounded in real life — not theory.

They believe great marriages aren’t built by accident. They grow through intentional connection, healthy communication, shared purpose, and a willingness to keep learning and growing together.

When they’re not investing in couples, Ron and Teresa enjoy staying active, travelling, camping in their trailer, spending time with their grandkids in Chilliwack, and making the most of life together.

More than anything, their story isn’t about having a perfect marriage — it’s about a long journey of learning, growing, and choosing each other again and again.

Erik & Bonnie Freiburger’s Bio

Having been both in wheelchairs due to a spinal cord injury caused by separate motor vehicle accidents in the early 90’s, Erik and Bonnie Freiburger have learned a great deal as to what it means to be disabled. Meeting in a group home that served as a place for transition from the hospital to community life, they developed a great friendship that would eventually turn into a deep love for one another. Getting married in 1999, they built a home in SE Calgary and spent the last 27 years learning, growing, and sometimes juggling the chaos that comes in marriage and a life of disability.

Bonnie loves baking at home in the kitchen and hosting movie nights with their friends. Erik loves eating Bonnie’s baked goods while writing and hosting a Substack and podcast advocating for disability and faith called ‘At The Bottom Of The Well’ and ‘The Well Dwellers Podcast’.

Banquet of Belonging is a conference exploring how community and discipleship are reshaped when disabled and non-disabled people learn together across difference. Through theology, lived experience, and shared practices, participants are invited into a vision of belonging formed at one table—where gifts are celebrated and everyone matters. [Calgary live gathering is at First Alliance Church on the 2nd floor in the Harvest Room.]

This conference gathers disabled and non-disabled Christians, pastors, and families to explore how discipleship changes when people learn from one another across differences. Sessions will address theology, access, relationships, and lived experience, grounding everything in practices that create shared tables rather than parallel ministries. Each regional gathering includes a shared meal that embodies the call: a community formed by mutual welcome, celebrated gifts, and a commitment to belong to one another.

Plenary Keynote Speakers

Sarah Wardlaw (Vancouver)

Growing up with cerebral palsy, Sarah has always wanted to encourage others who feel underestimated and not truly known, whether as a consequence of a disability or some other circumstance. She works as a speech-language pathologist, and believes that the opportunity to express ourselves and be understood – whatever form that may take – is a gift from God for all people.

Sarah has been blessed to be part of several amazing church communities, including St. John’s Vancouver Anglican Church, which she has attended for 11 years. Through true friendships built with family in Christ, Sarah continues to learn more about how we can value interdependence and experience Jesus’ great compassion in our pain and weakness, without denying that pain. Dogs are guaranteed to bring a smile to her face, and she enjoys sci-fi TV and fantasy games.

Jon Coutts (Calgary)

After growing up and pastoring in western Canada, Jon wrote a PhD on forgiveness in Scotland and went on to teach ethics in England before returning home to continue his theological work in and for the Canadian church. Jon is married to Angie and they have four grown sons who still gather to watch Liverpool Football Club.

Chantelle, Jenna, & Terry Sanderson

Terry and Chantelle Sanderson have dedicated much of their lives to pastoral ministry, serving in London, Ontario, St. Louis, Missouri, and now at Bayview Glen Alliance Church in Thornhill. Their journey has been marked by a desire to follow God’s leading and to serve His people faithfully.

A central part of their story is their daughter Jenna. Living with a disability, Jenna radiates joy and creativity, with a love for history, art, and ministry alongside her sisters, Jadyn and Jovanna. Her perspective has opened up new ways for the Sandersons to see God’s presence at work in their family, church, and community. Jenna is a published author often writing about her experiences with disability within a church context.

Together, Terry, Chantelle, and Jenna share a testimony of faith, family, and the beauty of God’s image reflected in every person.

Not too many people know this about me, but prior to my spinal cord injury, I nearly became a lifeguard and spent a lot of time swimming in the Calgary public pools. However, that was over 30+ years ago and to be honest, I’ve never had the courage to get in a pool or visit one since!

There really are not very many accessible pools in the city, either. But that is truthfully just an excuse. Those of us in the dis/abled crowd know where the cool places to take a dip are; and the venturesome one’s of us have dove right in. Of course, those pools are open for any able person to join in the fun, too. Which opens the door to reflecting on when Jesus and his friends visited a similar community pool.

Yes, it might be a funny thing to say but, the dis/abled crowd in Jesus’s time had a similar place to hangout called the pool of Bethesda. Like today, “a great number of disabled people used to lie there.” (vs. 3) Intriguingly, you must note the generalization here of the labeled “disabled” in Jesus’s story; they are glazed over as a collective and overlooked as a crowd despite John articulating their unique characteristics – the blind, the lame, and the paralyzed. Even in saying this, most of us read these qualities as a loss or negative to their character recognition as appose to their gifting and empowerment. If this seems like a stretch, think of a similar story a few chapters later when Jesus says a blind man was born blind not because of a fault, but “so God’s glory might be seen in him.” (John 9:3)

In the midst of this story and crowd, we have to ask ourselves, “What were these people really looking for in the traditions of this pool of healing and God’s work?’ And “Why did they feel so invisible to the greater community around them?” For Jesus, this moment at the pool was not merely a place to perform a miracle. It was a moment for Jesus to model seeing the dis/abled while confronting cultural invisibility, redefine personal wellness, and to unveil God’s work that continues through us even today.

I. Jesus Saw the Man — Removing Invisibility with the Sight of Incredibility

“Jesus saw him there…” (vs. 6) We’re not really sure why Jesus focused in on this particular man. But he was drawn to him out of some desire for personal connection. I’d like to think his motive was not one of despair or pity, but rather a lighthearted passion to truly draw closer and find relationship with the giftings this man would reveal.

More often than not, dis/abled today are seen as a marginal group, small in number. We don’t realize that in Alberta, 27% of our population are considered dis/abled. That is nearly 1 in 3 of us! Look around our church community. Do you see the dis/abled around our activities? Does it reflect this kind of representation or presence? Why or Why not?

For those of us that are seen and recognized, it is more often because of particular visible labels or structures – wheelchairs, walkers, or characteristics that segregate us to the “disabled” sections and ministries of the church. We are seen and known not as persons, but as conditions and for our locations or needs (disabled… parking, seats, events, caregiving). Our gifts are reduced to the disabled pools of society while otherwise invisible to the greater ethos and involvement with the Christian community.

As Jesus entered these pool areas, he saw and brought a restoration of personhood to the dis/abled people first before any understanding of healing. He did not ask what he could do. He asked what he could learn. He removed their invisibility and gave sight to their incredibility.

“See, know, discern, unveil… Sight precedes morality.” Richard Beck articulates. “For how can you take proper action in the world if you are blind, lost, deluded, ignorant, or confused? As Jesus said, the blind lead the blind, and all fall into the pit. Vision is required for navigation.”^[1]

II. A New Meaning of Wellness — Empowerment, Not Erasure

“Do you want to be made well?” (v. 6) The question seems to come in simple form. But the complexity is quickly revealed with the dis/abled man’s response – a response that also shows the deeper desire he was looking for.

“I have no one…” A reply that reveals his deep sense of community isolation, exclusion, and lack of access. These feelings had been pressed into him for so long without wanting to break the religious traditional rules and boundaries, nor the social order of acceptability, that he simply laid there waiting for 37 years!

I find it intriguing that Jesus did not name healing as the man’s desire. But rather he used the words “made well”, as in well-being and the state of comfort, joy, and wholeness. Jesus redefined the dis/abled man’s restoration not as the religious or social order did – the need for a cure so that he might look and act like everyone else. He removed the shame of his cultures cure narrative and empowered the personal agency or identity in this man, so that internal self-dignity was established, a participation in life involvement was in his own rising, responsibility was given to his own recognized calling and passions, and a voice of testimony to reflecting the work and presence of God in his life was revealed as he did not throw away the mat, but picked it up and carried it with him. Jesus reveals wellness as restored belonging within God’s renewing work—not mere physical normalization to the community’s expectations or measures.

As someone who lives his life in a wheelchair, I cannot help but feel the incredible weight that must have been lifted from this man’s soul after 37 years. I do not need to feel shame nor responsibility for the ostracization of the ways my wheelchair has shaped my life. I carry it with me as evidence to my testimony and empowerment while the responsibility and work of recognition to my well-being falls not to myself, but to the community and church around me.

What are the experiences and relationships that bring these moments of well-being to you?

How might Jesus and his community empower such wellness?

Can we recognize these as the very works and miracles of God around us?

III. The Work Is Still Ongoing

As we read the story of the man at the pool of Bethesda, it is important for us to acknowledge the living Word being spoken. This is not a one-off miracle that has been performed to establish Jesus’s authority in that moment alone. It is a revelation of divine rhythm that carries on in his calling of each one of us today.

Modeling the Way for us, Jesus shares with the religious leaders around him, “My Father is still working, and I also am working.” (vs. 17) The actions and social justice work of God continues throughout history as we seek to liberate and raise the well-being of the dis/abled and excluded within our neighbourhoods and world. “For we are God’s servants,” as Paul tells us. “…working together; you are God’s field, God’s building.” (1 Cor. 3:9)

We are to ask:

Who lies waiting in our sanctuaries and gathering spaces?

Who waits for access to events, retreats, and for community activities?

Who has been told to wait for a miracle while we refuse to move or change because it is easier to just continue with the normal activities?

The “Dis/abled God” Is Still Enabling His Church To Be Miraculous

The miracle at Bethesda did not begin with a man that was walking. It began with him being seen.

Before he stood, before he carried his mat through the streets, Jesus restored something even deeper than his muscle strength—he restored his dignity. In a world that had learned to step around him and not see him, Christ stopped. In a culture that had categorized him, Christ conversed. In a system and ideology that kept him waiting, Christ worked.

Nancy Eiesland reminds us that in the resurrected Jesus we meet “the dis/abled God”, a Saviour who still bears wounds. The scars and wounds were not erased in his resurrection; they were revealed as part of his glory. And it changes everything. It tells us that God’s work is not about erasing or curing dis/abled bodies or displaced lives, but about unveiling their belovedness, well-being, and belonging within the kingdom and within this world.

“My Father is still working,” Jesus says.

The question is whether we are.

Will we become a community where no one whispers, “I have no one”?

Will we dismantle the pools of exclusion we have grown comfortable maintaining?

Will we see dis/ability not as a detriment or need, but as a gift, a blessing to our community and to our lives?

Because the work that began at Bethesda continues wherever Christ’s body refuses invisibility and instead chooses the sacred, disruptive act of sight.

[1] https://substack.com/home/post/p-187960079

What if the future of the church isn’t stronger, faster, or more efficient—but more fragile, more attentive, and more deeply human?

In this episode of The Well Dwellers Podcast, Erik Freiburger is joined by theologian, pastor, and ethicist Jon Coutts for a wide-ranging and deeply honest conversation titled Escaping Superman Christianity: Rediscovering Our Creaturely Interdependent Identity & Why the Future Isn’t Superhuman.

Together, Erik and Jon confront the powerful cultural and ecclesial myths that shape so much of Western Christianity—the obsession with polish, productivity, efficiency, and success; the quiet idolization of the “Superman,” the “Barbie,” and the celebrity leader; and the ways these ideals marginalize disabled bodies, fragile lives, and those who don’t fit the mold. Drawing from disability theology, liberation theology, Scripture, and lived pastoral experience, they ask what it means to truly discern the body in a church culture still captive to marketplace logic.

This conversation moves through themes of disability and dignity, belonging and exclusion, church leadership and ecclesial imagination, and eventually into the ethical and theological questions surrounding artificial intelligence. Jon offers a compelling vision of creaturely interdependence, challenging the promise of a superhuman future driven by technology and efficiency, and instead calling us back to a faith rooted in limitation, mutual need, and shared life.

Along the way, they reflect on Luke 14’s banquet of belonging, the dangers of treating disability as a problem to solve rather than a gift that reveals God’s glory, and the urgent need for churches to recover an economy shaped not by success metrics, but by communion.

This is a conversation for anyone wrestling with the future of the church, the meaning of inclusion, and the question at the heart of it all:

What if escaping Superman Christianity is the very thing that allows us to become fully human—together?

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Please share this episode with others, rate, and leave a comment.

Pull up a chair, make room at the table, and join us at The Well.

Resources:

‘Deliver Us From AI’ w/ Jon Coutts — https://substack.com/@personalistmanifestos/p-165794360

Jon Coutts ‘Deliver Us From AI’ — PDF

Henri Nouwen’s ‘In The Name Of Jesus’ — https://www.henrinouwen.org/books/in-the-name-of-jesus

Richard Beck’s ‘On Intentionality’ — https://substack.com/home/post/p-183155944?source=queue

Pope Francis’s ‘Laudato Si’ — https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/encyclicals/documents/papa-francesco_20150524_enciclica-laudato-si.html

A Christian’s Perspective on Artificial Intelligence — https://christoverall.com/article/longform/a-christians-perspective-on-artificial-intelligence/

Willie Jenning’s ‘The Christian Imagination’ — https://www.amazon.ca/Christian-Imagination-Theology-Origins-Race/

Chapters:

00:00 Opening

05:02 On The Precipice Of Fragility & Hope

16:46 Blind Spots To Inclusion In The Church

25:12 Who Is Invited To The Banquet?

40:41 AI & The Pursuit Of The Perfect

55:00 Social Justice & The Ground Work Of Church

1:17:37 Anti-Heros & The “Sully’s” In The World

1:22:50 Closing

One of my favorite moments in the holidays is being able to cozy up with my wife Bonnie in our home theatre and watch a fantastic movie. Just a few nights ago, we dimmed the lights and together watched Brad Pitt’s newest film ‘F1’ — an incredible thrill ride of adrenaline and dramatic dialogue! While watching, a particular scene grabbed my imagination as the APXGP team members sat around the conference table and spoke ardently about holding onto their best hopes for the coming day’s race. Their driver Sonny Hayes however, cynically interrupted them saying, “Hope is not a strategy.”

What was it that seemed to grab my imagination’s attention in this moment?

“Hope Is Not a Strategy” — Naming the Limit Without Abandoning Hope

Over the past year, I have spent a lot of my energy and focus wondering where the disabled community and myself might find hope and experience it in deeper more profound ways. It has provided many moments of community development and activity, encounters with others in the search, conversations and presentations that led to personal and social growth, and time spent reading, listening, and learning from incredibly articulate and smarter people then I!

I owe a great debt to authors like , Sara Hagerty, Kurt Willems, Amy Lively, Kate Bowler, Richard Rohr, Christine Caine, and countless bloggers and social personality’s. There is profound gratitude to my friends , , Rob Buschman, my community in the New Leaf Network, and my home church The First Alliance here in Calgary. They have all greatly inspired my journey of hope this past year and what it might look like in disability.

But, Sonny Hayes is right. And in the paraphrased words of Jürgen Moltmann:

“Hope alone is not enough. It does not change the present. But without hope, the present cannot be endured.”

In a life of disability, Hope is not a strategy—it is a revealing vision of divine light that is shaping our imaginations, a refusal to accept social injustice as inevitable, and the courage to act toward a future not yet visible. Somewhere in a deeper story written in our life’s journey we must come to the transcending belief that Hope imagines the road ahead; while joy is the strategy that keeps us driving.

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When Hope Seems Blurry: Joy as an Enduring Practice

Recently, I have started reading ‘The Book of Joy’ by His Holiness the Dalai Lama & the Archbishop Desmond Tutu. Hoping it might begin to steer me in a direction of what a strategy and practice of disabled spirituality might look like, it quickly revealed a foundation to how that conversation might be grounded in reality. Speaking plainly, the Dalai Lama & Tutu framed their approach:

I have never professed that the disabled life is easy. Everyday comes with its ups & downs and many times it is not an easy or fair split between the two. But I don’t think in the 30 years I’ve been in a wheelchair that I have ever seen myself as suffering. Certainly there have been more then my fair share of experiences and times of pain. But I guess I simply framed it as the constant fight for life we all face in some form or way. Like the Furyan striving forward defiantly into the face of death itself, pain is a right of passage and not a state of suffering. But, with maybe a little more joy?

I think Jesus’s brother, the apostle James, also had a streak of Furyan character. “My brothers and sisters,” He began his letter to the early Christians who were facing great oppression and socially imposed exclusions to the point of death:

“… whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance; and let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing.” (James 1:2-4)

James has a great point. Joy can hardly cover the full strategy and practice of a enduring & maturing disabled spirituality. But it is a conceiving start to a foundation that can build upon such a deep and meaningful endeavour. That foundation of joy is the task I am pulled towards as this New Year dawns.

“Drive Fast” — Joy as Strategy, Motion, and Refusal to Stagnate

There was an awkward pause following Sonny’s interruption in the APXGP pre-race meeting before the question was then asked, “So what is your strategy?” Sonny’s answer was simple, “Drive fast.”

Simple. Plain. And Direct. I don’t think Sonny thought driving a Formula 1 race car was easy and without the complexities of planning, conditioning, deconstructing & rebuilding. And of course practicing to win a race. The same truth can be said in building a strategy for practicing an enduring, maturing, and joyful disabled spirituality.

Hope casts an awe infused vision for us in an ever drawing near eternal reality. But, hope is not a strategy for driving the disabled life we live for and desire today. It cannot, by itself, carry us through exhaustion, repetition, or grief. Hope imagines what might yet be possible, but imagination alone does not move the body, mind, or spirit alone. And so Paul does not say, “Hope always.” He says, “Rejoice always. Again, I say rejoice!”

Joy becomes the practice that keeps us moving when hope feels thin. Joy does not deny struggle; it refuses to let struggle have the final word. “Drive fast,” not as escape or recklessness, but as commitment—to stay in motion, to remain alive to wonder, to move through the world with a defiant gladness rooted deeper than outcomes or ends.

So let the journey and race towards discovering a practical disabled spirituality built upon a foundation of joy begin!

Growing up I would see my mom daily facing the ups & downs of her disability. Some days were filled with physical pain brought on by debilitating fibromyalgia and she would lean heavily on her cane while walking. While other days she would be upright and steady. The cost of chronic pain would be taxing with depression, frustration, and mental fatigue.

Despite these constant pressures, she loved music and would often take out her guitar and play worship music on the living room floor. She would lead our small Anglican church in worship nearly every Sunday and would never miss a practice with the church band. Nor would she ever leave a campfire while in the hills of Kananaskis Country without leading us all in joyful songs while watching the embers rise in the starry night sky. Pain and all, my mother never left an opportunity unanswered to give paise to God.

Christmas was perhaps her favorite time of year. Every year, she would put her favorite Christmas record of Amy Grant on the turn table and sing to it as though she was the lead vocal for a Christmas concert of one — Emmanuel, God with us!

Today, I journey a different path of disability, reminded of the spirit of joy and hope that she always carried during this time of year. Truthfully, it’s not always easy for those with disabilities to hold onto this vision that Christmas and Advent is a season of remembering that God is with us.

It is true that like many others, we experience the great joys of crowding a local Access bus and driving around the city with others while being filled with the wonder & beauty of homes being decorated in Christmas lights with inflatable Santa’s in their snowy front yards. If we’re lucky, someone brought a thermos of hot chocolate with styrofoam cups, so everyone could share. We brave the crowded inaccessible malls to maybe buy a few gifts for our loved ones, while navigating the tricky balance of strained budgets and stressful spending. And, at home we play Christmas music while having a few family and friends over to celebrate the love and care of a supporting community.

But Christmas and Advent can also be a time of struggle. Cold snowy weather can make it difficult to get around as wheelchairs get stuck in unshovelled paths and slushy parking lots. Pain can increase with fluctuating weather storms and temperatures that can drop over night — not to mention the salt and ice that stick to your wheels and cut your hands to shreds. Doctor’s offices close down and appointments are cancelled which can for some lead to greater isolation at home and the loneliness of small subsidized apartments. Caregivers in mass take holidays leaving care for individuals in the community strained at best, if not neglected or unfulfilled with the expectations of care being left to clients family and friends. And, the reminder of living in poverty is at a heightened level while you try to not become depressed from the changing provincial policies that are already affecting whether you can afford rent, food, healthcare supplies, or the overwhelming guilt that you can’t provide a gift at family and community gatherings.

For many, we wish only to quickly get through the season to find more normalized anxieties and stress in the new year. Where can Christmas hope come from? How can we hold to that first Christmas promise that Emmanuel, God is with us?

Recently, I came across something Sara Hagerty wrote in her book ‘The Gift of Limitations’:

“Slower still comes to you and me in the form of things we might otherwise see as fences. Slower still, as we embrace the “come, die, grieve, live” cycle that God gives us, can become the words we use to lead us before our bodies do. Come (choose to step forward and not stay stuck), die (let Him have His way with us), grieve (collapse into God and remember, in our collapsing, that our longings matter), and live (truly live)—and slower still as we go.”

Slow is not the natural path of the world today. Perhaps even more unnatural during the Christmas season. And yet the promise of experiencing hope at Christmas is found even more in the story of Emmanuel — God stripping everything of himself away to take the form of a completely dependant infant. Humanly speaking, exposing himself to the risk of disabled divinity in utter dependance on the care of his mother, father, shepherds, wisemen, and the community who came to a small stable that first Christmas and brought the only gift that truly mattered — Hope & Joy.

Revealing the presence of God with us at Christmas is not a matter of bringing the most glittery gifts to toy drives and flooding tables with donated food packages; although those can accompany a spirit of hope and well being. Like the rhythmic talents of the traditional drummers boy in many Nativity Scenes, its the small acts we take in relationally connecting with one another that builds a world of hope around us.

in a short Advent devotional called ‘Hope Is Not Neutral’ shares the encouraging words of Nick Cave to a family in a moving letter:

“Unlike cynicism,” Nick Cave concluded, “hope is hard-earned and can feel like the loneliest place on earth. Hopefulness is not a neutral position. It is adversarial and it can lay waste to cynicism. Every redemptive act, as small as you like, such as reading to your little boy or showing him a thing you love or putting on his shoes, keeps the devil down in his hole. It shows the world and its inhabitants [that they] have value and are worth defending. It shows the world is worth believing in. [And] in time, you will find that it becomes so.”

Perhaps this Christmas, hope won’t arrive as a bright burst of cheer but as something quieter—an ember we choose to guard in the winds of our limitations and disabilities. Advent has always been a season that honours the slow, the small, and the vulnerable. It begins not with power and strength, but with a newborn cradled in a manger, dependent on the care and compassion of an unlikely expecting community. And it continues today wherever we dare to believe that our own limits, frustrations, and aches might still be places where God draws near and makes room for disabled joy, disabled grief, and disabled presence.

So as we move through this season—with its joy and pain, its crowded buses and unshovelled paths, its laughter, its loneliness, and its longing—may we remember that Emmanuel comes to disabled bodies, tired spirits, and tender hearts. Hope is not neutral. It is the stubborn decision to keep showing up for one another in small, redemptive ways: a song offered through pain, a shared cup of hot chocolate, a simple act of presence that tells someone they are worth defending.

And in choosing these small acts, we join that first circle of shepherds, parents, wanderers, and unexpected guests who gathered around the manger. Together, we become a community that makes room for real hope—hope that grows slowly, quietly, and faithfully. Hope that reminds us, again and again, that God is with us.

In this episode of The Well Dwellers Podcast, Erik Freiburger sits down with Bruce Callow for a rich and wide-ranging conversation at the intersection of music, memory, disability, and emerging technology. Recorded in the wake of a small but powerful gathering called ‘Remixing Reality’ at the Calgary Central Library, this dialogue explores how AI-assisted music creation can open new pathways of expression for those who struggle to find words—whether because of disability, aging, trauma, or simply the limits of language itself.

Bruce brings stories from decades of work in education, global justice, and community building, alongside his own musical journey—from punk and post-punk stages to facilitating songwriting workshops in seniors’ homes, immigrant communities, and across cultures and continents. Together, Erik and Bruce reflect on moments when music became a bridge: calming anxious bodies, unlocking memories, giving voice to prayers, and revealing identity in ways that surprised everyone in the room.

This episode doesn’t shy away from the ethical tensions surrounding AI and creativity. Instead, it asks deeper questions about dignity, embodiment, accessibility, and how technology—when held with care—might serve as a tool for connection rather than replacement. Along the way, you’ll hear snippets of songs born from these workshops and stories that linger long after the final note fades.

Pull up a chair at the well. This is a conversation about listening—deeply—to one another, and to the songs waiting to be sung within us all.

Chapters

00:00 Beginning Notes

02:32 About Bruce Callow

09:03 Discovering AI Music

12:09 Stories, Experiences, & Community Encounters

21:21 Concerns & Dangers

28:32 The Hope for and in AI creativity

37:44 Room for Improvement

39:09 Wrapping Up & Looking for More

41:58 Final Words

Resources:

Remixing Reality’s Event Entire Playlist: https://suno.com/playlist/3905363d-ec48-4322-9e37-257933d313de

Books By Bruce Callow:

Online Courses With Bruce Callow: https://www.create-learn.us/partners/bruce-callow-296

For most of my life I have dreamed of publishing a book. Ideas come and sometimes I even start to formulate them into something. But it always seems to fade into the backdrop of life. Wind up on my blog. Or, life itself gets in the way. The internal struggles:

• This is good and I can’t wait! — Shortly afterwards, I’ll publish it online somewhere.

• This sounds like a million other books. Who’s going to really be interested in mine?

• This is too BIG! I’ll be writing another “War & Peace” academic monstrosity.

• Health is struggling from to much time in front of the screen. I need to workout, eat better, and move more. I don’t want to loose my transfer independence!

• Will this work actually be meaningful a valued by others? I don’t want to put in all this effort only to have stacks of copies in my storage room to give away to others only to full shelf space. (Sorry. Being brutally honest.)

Are they valid? Honestly, I don’t know. But… the dream still comes up from time to time. Nudges from the Spirit? Maybe.

Anyways, New Leaf Network recently opened an invitation to join a writers circle. Perhaps you are asking, what is that?! In short… a group of writers who meet to share their work, provide constructive feedback, and offer mutual support in a safe and encouraging environment. In this case, we are connecting across country through Zoom.

It is my first time entering these kind of relationships and while I keep hopeful in the dream of producing something from the accountability & support, I also feel a bit intimidated. They all seem so accomplished, qualified… and way smarter then me! Still, I feel so incredibly honoured to be part of the fellowship and co-bearer to keeping the “flame” burning among us!

What do I expect from such a camaraderie in the pursuit of publication?

Perhaps first, a soundboard to ideas, thoughts, and writing samples. With the greater knowledge of the others in my circle, I would greatly appreciate there input to the quality of my efforts in my writing style and pieces. Is this worth writing? Is it engaging? Or what more or less does it need to communicate the message? At the same time, perhaps resources could be exchanged to help in the researching of my written project. Or aids to help with writing.

Second, while I don’t want a beat down for missing a deadline, I deeply need to find a sense of accountability and perhaps schedule for my writing goals. I can write. But without a focused date of expected completion from fellow sojourning friends in the same processes, it is too easy for me to put off for those other internal reasonings. It might be crap that I turn in. But it keeps me accountable to improvement and redrafting. I should also mention; this is a deadline for written pieces. I don’t think I am ready for a finished publication draft just yet.

Perhaps also connected to this accountability piece is to be a kind of advisory board to other projects. It is easy, really easy for me to fall in love with other projects in the disabled advocacy roll and end up taking on to much. It quickly leads to burnout. An encouraging advisor to ask if new projects are a worthy fitting amidst my other pursuits could be helpful.

Thirdly, to be sparks & embers that keep our collective flames ablaze with creativity, passion,. skills, and drive to accomplish the goal — PUBLICATION!! Let’s keep this fun! How do we do that? Honestly, I have no idea. Maybe we could have a guest in our meetings every so often to talk to us about certain subjects related to our writings. Or someone who could improve our writing abilities. Ideas?

Fourthly, this might be the hardest considering my mobility. Let’s keep it real as much as possible. We are spread out across the country. But lets try not to get lost in the matrix of online superficial-ism. If there is opportunity to meet face to face, let’s make it happen. Writer retreat workshops? Maybe those, too. If we get good at this… what if we planned, organized and hosted a workshop for the other New Leaf Circles?! Maybe I’m getting ahead and thinking too creatively.

Final Words…

This past weekend Kyle Trigg asked in my home church, what would be the greatest final words you ever spoke? Ok, I’m probably paraphrasing a bit from where my imagination went during his message. But the clear words that spoke in my head came from the lips of Jesus — “It is Finished!”

To be clear, I don’t expect for us to have an expected finish line drawn out with date, time, and schedule. I hope for an epic adventurous quest for completion together! A journey that brings new encounters and fellowships along the way. Overcomes tumultuous mountains and powerless pitfalls falls through the camaraderie of friendship & support. And yes, finally sees & shares the exciting conclusions of all of us publishing something completely unexpected from each of us, with the blessings of God’s Holy Spirit.