I am human. We are human. Let’s begin there.

And here is the big idea:

When communities teach children that they are the holders of ultimate truth, those children will unintentionally inherit pressure, anxiety, and unconscious superiority.

That is because we have placed on the children a burden that is far above their pay grade. We place on them the same burden that was placed on us—a burden that many of us carry to the third and fourth generation. What is that burden?

We tell them that we, and only we, are the bearers of divine truth.

We tell them that no one else has truth like we do.

And we tell them that we are tasked with guarding that truth for a Master who will punish us if we deviate from it.

This creates a traumatic inheritance of anxiety and arrogance.

It robs us—and it robs the children—of the opportunity to live as loved, learning humans.

We are human, and I think that matters more than we sometimes allow it to matter.

Because when we forget that we are human, we begin to imagine that our thoughts are pure, linear, and perfect simply because these thoughts originate in us—guardians of truth.

We begin to imagine that our intentions are undefiled simply because we meant well.

We begin to imagine that the harm in the world is mostly caused by other people—people who are ignorant, cruel, lost, defensive, incompetent, blameworthy, shameful, and less perfect than we are.

And that is a big part of the problem.

The live video below may seem chaotic, unclear, or disrupted. But what it actually reflects is something very real about being alive.

It is a living reflection of the awe and wonder we can experience together—alive and in relationship with the natural world, with the things we have created, and with the mystery of being created beings ourselves.

It is the experience of living in connection with our Creator and with each other. And that kind of connection is profoundly profitable.

Not profitable in the narrow transactional sense that we often associate with economics, but profitable in the deeper sense of mutual flourishing. When relationships are rooted in humility, truth, and love, the result is shared wellbeing—spiritually, sexually, emotionally, socially, and materially.

This kind of prosperity is transformational rather than transactional. It is the kind of prosperity that healthy communities were always meant to cultivate together.

The video begins with a moment of shared wonder as we observe a magnificent eagle perched—and then soaring—from the highest point of a majestic tree at my very favourite place: Crescent Beach.

From there, we begin to explore the truths of our stories, and the danger of believing that the part of the truth we hold is the whole truth that exists.

And we turn to Jesus’ invitation to live with humility and respect for the many stories that shape our human experience.

I invite us to recognize the value that each of our stories brings to the world. I invite us to learn from our stories, and I invite us to recognize that there are as many stories as there are living things—and all bring a part of truth to the world.

And I also invite us to recognize something even more important.

Our Divine Creation Team does the heavy lifting in the work of revelation and healing.

They ask us to cast that burden onto Them.

That is not our job.

We cannot carry that weight.

We thrive when we accept their invitation to become partners—when they fulfill their role in the Big Picture, and we faithfully fulfill ours.

In Romans chapter 3, Paul speaks of the Jews having the revelation of God.

But is Paul correct?

What impact did the idea of having the revelation of God have on Israel?

And what impact does the belief that our revelation is the truth have on individuals and communities today?

When Jesus asked, “Should we take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs?”was he affirming Israel as “the children” and defining all others as “the dogs”? Or was he challenging the nation’s supremacist assumptions—and inviting everyone present to recognize themselves as children?

These are important questions.

And they bring us back to something that matters deeply.

We must be very careful about the stories we tell the children.

And we must be equally careful about the way we live our stories in front of them.

Because the way we tell and live our stories shapes how children experience the world.

When we present our story as the only truth, we unintentionally place a heavy burden on them—the burden of believing that they must carry truth for the world.

That burden easily grows into superiority.

And superiority, even when it grows out of sincere belief, leads to contempt.

When contempt enters our hearts, it robs us—and it robs our children—of the joy of living in peace and shared progress with all the children of God.

So I invite us to witness this moment of shared awe and wonder with the community as I share my testimony, my questions, and my reflections on this big idea.

The moment began simply.

For several months I had been trying to get to my favourite place: Crescent Beach. Two Saturdays ago, on March 14th, I finally made it.

As I arrived, I saw a man who is Sikh standing beside where I parked, his head tilted upward, his phone raised and focused on the top of a magnificent tree.

He had noticed the eagle first.

High above us, perched at the very top of the tall, majestic tree, the bird sat with quiet authority—still, watchful, completely at ease in its place in the world.

I grabbed my phone, exclaimed in delight, and clambered out of the car to find a spot where I could witness and share the moment.

And as we stood there together—strangers, friends, passersby—the conversation stopped. We were largely quiet. Heads tilted upward.

For a moment, we were simply human beings sharing wonder.

We were standing together at Crescent Beach—one of my favourite places in the world—watching the tide breathe in and out along the shore. The air carried that familiar mix of salt and wind that seems to open something inside the human spirit.

Then the eagle moved.

With sudden and effortless grace, it spread its wings and lifted into the air, leaving the tree behind and rising into the open sky.

And in that moment, something beautiful happened among us.

People laughed in delight. Someone gasped. Others pointed as the bird caught the wind and began to soar.

We were different people, carrying different stories, different beliefs, different questions about life and God and truth.

And yet, in that moment, we were simply a small community of humans standing together in awe.

That moment inspired and encouraged me, because it reminded me of something important. Human beings were not meant to live as isolated holders of ultimate truth, defending our small pieces of certainty against one another.

We were meant to stand together in wonder.

We were meant to learn from one another’s stories.

And we were meant to soar together.

It was the perfect moment to share the thoughts of my heart that continue to emerge as I live in relationship with God and with all of us, as we seek to become a truly inclusive community that embodies belonging.

My Crescent Beach experience became so much more than I could ever have asked, dreamed, or imagined, and I hold faith that our communities will similarly become more unified in the love of God, and we will soar together, finally embodying belonging more than we had ever asked, dreamed, or imagined.

XO. I love you.

Saran.