Articles
Every time I turn from my kitchen sink, I turn and see in my mind’s eye a house full of humble people meeting on a Sunday afternoon.
A writer tells a there and back again story about finding the unexpected and the new perspective it taught her.
Although I couldn’t see it at the time, God was making a way. It didn’t feel like summiting the mountain, the hard work and new heights that proved I was moving forward. It felt more like walking through a dark valley carved through the heart of my sorrow.
An artist reflects on the struggle of creative work, a battle with materials and with his own self through which an expression of courage takes shape.
From ages past, first to last, everlasting to everlasting, the Ancient of Days, more ancient than days, clothes of thunder and eyes ablaze. A wind is gently blowing now; a divine breath exhaled.
With the busyness of everyday life, the constant demands of work and family, it’s an easy default to do instead of to be.
Words spoken suddenly switched on lights that blazed in a universe bright now where night once ruled before verbs and nouns pronounced sky and sea as separate then announced a new world as “good,” an adjective repeated to affirm all the “fearful symmetry.”
I took a year of early “retirement” after being laid off, but discovered that my old habits of productivity tied to self-worth were hard to leave behind.
The contributors to this year’s issue of Imprint prompt us to consider what is happening in front of our eyes, even as our modern distractions hinder us from looking with appreciation or listening to each other’s stories with care.
Thomas turned around and looked back down the tunnel. The bend in the road was much closer than he remembered. Just a few dozen steps. He began to walk—hesitantly at first and then briskly, remembering he was late for a meeting and that he had left his laptop on the ground.
oh Shane. take in the car. Take the car, in, Shane.
A striking image in an old poem led me to research conversion stories online. What I found filled me with wonder.
The authors of this book remind us that whenever people leave church, we shouldn’t watch them go and say, “They were just the wrong sort of people,” continuing service as usual. Instead, we must sit with the weight of that loss for as long as needed to create positive change.
An interview with local singer-songwriter Mike Janzen about his recent work, The Psalms Project, and making new music in an old tradition.
When the whirlwind of new fatherhood turns a romantic dinner into a lesson in patience, beauty and compassion emerge in unexpected places.
Much like the process of creating a new recipe, life can feel like a series of expected trials and choices.
My experience during the pandemic taught me to see my homeless neighbours and acknowledge the reality of their lives–and our responsibility to respond.
On the way out of the centre of Amsterdam on one of the city’s oldest canals, the Singel, boats pass a public art installation featuring large terrazzo letters set into the wall which read terugkomen is niet hetzelfde als blijven—“to return is not the same as to stay.”
The co-founders of Grace Toronto children’s library think through the importance of fairy tales and explore how stories root themselves in our hearts for a lifetime.
It takes a lot of vulnerability to reach out, not knowing if someone will do the same. It’s easier to stay put and pretend we don’t care. But growth only happens when we reach out.
The human experience of glory coalesces around moments like Ukrainian President Zelenskyy’s defiance of the Russian invasion of his country. But what was the significance of his rallying cry?
Inheriting my family’s film camera is a tangible reminder that the past stays with us, and has led me to reflect on how memories are made.
I view the spiritual life much like I view used bookstores—something I engage with in the here and now and yet I am simply existing on the edge of the great story that has come before me.
Once again, life was unkind to Gary. So he went to the shed, poured gasoline, checked the oil indicator, the chain tension, Put on ear protection.
Disconnected from our cultural legacy by my family’s attempts to assimilate, I found a belonging that transcends culture.
Throughout the Epistles, Paul displays inspiring patience and humility that brings a tear to my eye. It’s quite supernatural and something I wish I had.
This year’s theme of “Roots & Branches” emerged out of a late fall conversation when the dropping of leaves was putting a punctuation mark on the passage of time, and has bloomed into a particularly personal and moving issue.
An astrophysicist takes up an artist’s brush to meditate on God’s wondrous works.
There must be some essential part of us that doesn’t change, even though we’re transformed.
This fantasy novel delves into the nuanced relationship between faith and works, worship and will, from the perspective of a human being who must find a way to live through paradoxes.
Six children’s books reward our attention and invite us to discover the power of playful storytelling.
Anxiety and self-doubt tell me I can never be worthy of others’ kindness, but God’s loving voice refuses to be drowned out.
My experience of invisible suffering showed me how vulnerability allows others beyond our social façades.
The authors and artists published in this issue turn the optics of faith and imagination onto the world around us, discovering new visions of “beyond” at home, in our communities, and in our hearts.
The kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant man, seeking his coffee: Who, when he had rolled up the brim, found treasure therein, and went on his way rejoicing.
O God, God of Adam and Eve, God of humanity. We are homesick. Homesick for a place we have never been, and yet long for deep in our souls.
Come now, you holy ones who have tasted sweet honey, who have spoken and were spoken to, who have loved one another
We asked Grace Toronto congregants what life together looked like in our pandemic year.
Built on a robust theology of sexuality, Beyond Awkward Side Hugs casts a vision for strong, gendered relationships inside the church.
Your mamma was not mad at the doctors for telling her that her situation would likely never change and that you were not possible. Doctors are trained to look at circumstances for what they are. They tend to look at norms and facts.
As an ophthalmologist, I have had the privilege—and the pandemic risk—of seeing eye to eye with my patients. Did this proximity with strangers have something to teach me?
I took it for granted then that I could call you and you would know what to do. I didn’t realize that it wouldn’t always be so.
In this encounter and many more, I have come to experience the immense beauty, freedom, and safety within diversity—a glimpse of the new Jerusalem.
The way that the people of Israel collectively plead with God in the book of Lamentations also reminds us that grief can be felt corporately, in the communal body of the church.
As through a dark glass. See how you are formed By the Spirit’s subtlety, like dawn, Which shines new light upon that face once more.
like companions settling down with so-and-so, in a new city, new job, doing such-and-such. “I’m still here for you whenever you need me.”
The following is a work of fiction based on a real situation which occurred in Toronto on Easter Sunday, 2020, at a downtown grocery store.
In the circle of Oxford writers known as the “Inklings,” friendship was a boon to art.
Across the water, the deciduous put on their green. Dad says they look like paint-by-numbers trees.
Katie Cooper interviews Arleen Gomez about the organization’s efforts to serve the homeless during the pandemic.
This issue laments the loneliness we’ve all felt. More importantly, it celebrates the gift of togetherness. I would tell you more about the wonderful work in these pages—but let me leave it to my colleagues on the Imprint team with whom I do this “together” work.
During the pandemic, the membrane between work and life became more permeable. Was that the reason for the exhaustion?
I wanted to be kind and generous—but I always hoped my neighbour wouldn’t impose.
As part of the exploration of Imprint’s 2021 theme, “TOGETHER”, we invited members of the Grace Toronto Church Youth to submit pieces that reflect their personal connection to the theme.
In families, there is much that remains unspoken, even unspeakable. Sometimes, in an effort to span the silence, we try writing what we have never felt free to say.
The Imprint Magazine team will host a virtual workshop on Saturday May 29 from 10:30 am - 12 p.m.
We will boast in your goodness, O LORD, all our days, for there is no end to your tender mercies.
I’d always found poetry exclusive, but A Really Good Brown Girl offered me welcome.
To risk looking at our shame requires that we are loved, and to risk being loved requires that we are seen in all of our shame. What is most important, then, is the…
Art, I think, from a Christian perspective, comes out of a search for what is true, good, and beautiful. I was inspired to join the Imprint team, because I wanted to add a community to this search of mine. Creating in a community is how we were made to thrive.
Society seems to shout “YOU DO YOU!” from every rooftop. We emphasize self-expression and vulnerability above all else . . .
When deciding on Imprint’s 2020 theme, our team liked the idea of exploring freedom. I, on the other hand, balked.
As Grace Toronto Church prepares to sponsor a new refugee family in 2021, we hope this interview can helpfully shape our hopes and expectations . . .
A short interview with Katy Togeretz on her experiences with Imprint and creating our Freedom issue.
My journey with “making” started through my love for the home. I was obsessed with interior decorating from a young age, and refinishing furniture felt like the perfect outlet for this underlying itch I had to create.
My time in quarantine, which seems to stretch on as far as the eye can see, has prompted me to revisit past ruptures in my relationships. Rather than hope that they might simply flatten and disappear…
I believe the subjective voice has the potential to speak to someone on a personal level, whether through visuals or writing. I’m especially interested in visuals, which speak without speaking.
What I didn’t understand all those years ago that the call to write wasn’t just a call to some solitary, quiet corner of my house where I could stay tucked away from the children, my head bent over my keyboard. The call to write was also a call to participate in something far bigger
You picked quite an eventful year to be born! This year, the world changed in ways we never could have imagined.
Near the end of the year, I was fortunate enough to get a job offer at a hospital in Toronto. There was a part of me that was excited to live alone in the city, to sequester myself and restrict my social circle.
Several days ago, we learned that our son’s spring high school graduation, already delayed once, has been postponed again.
It is late. Night has long since cloaked the parking lot, but my daughter’s whimpers and the bustle of the emergency room keep me oblivious. I watch a patient walk by, and my eyes follow him to the window…
The happy Easter Sunday I was starting to enjoy became a wisp of a dream when the phone rang suddenly.
Gavin and Lara Jackson share a bit of their perspective on life in a pandemic.
Read Alex's story to learn about the work of the Pregnancy Care Centre and the difference that love and support can make in someone's life.
With the weather warming and most parks around us still closed, in recent weeks, I finally turned my attention to our garden.
Our letters have been shuttling back and forth for a year and a half now, keeping the time that we’re apart.
Toronto’s transportation history shows a city balancing the preservation of the past with the relentless march of change.
Pioneering Olympian and community leader Silvia Ruegger faces cancer with grace, running and an unrelenting faith.
When the lockdown started, I tried to learn as much as possible about this virus, its transmission, and the situation in Canada.
I woke from a deep slumber, temporarily at a loss for where I was.
Having been the daughter of perpetually late parents, I’ve long been avowed to punctuality. But I’ve made a recent discovery . . .
I asked the team to share a couple book recommendations and the result is a delightful mix of to-reads you can enjoy on a patio in the city or your next cottage weekend.
To experience the world through a child’s eyes is to see again the wonder in the everyday, the surprise of the unfamiliar and the delight in the ordinary.
Mark Durksen uses spoken word to explore the burdens as blessings of expanding to two Sunday services.
I learned the joy of cooking from an immigrant mother whose sole instrument for measuring was her index finger.
I reach to check her blood pressure and listen to her chest because she says she is unwell.
I long for a notion of history that invites us to take up the openness of the present.
Though the AGO has undergone numerous renovations, memories of the older versions of the structure are suppressed by the new.
From Afghanistan to Toronto, Malika Rasoli is building a new community and sharing the taste of Afghani cooking.
Keeping time is a way of keeping faith. What does this look like when it comes to the season of Advent?
We complain endlessly about the traffic in my midtown Toronto neighbourhood. It’s been years of the Crosstown LRT project—and years until the new subway is completed.
We’re expanding on our annual print issue and launching Imprint online in order to reach a wider audience, work with more creators and to engage with culture in the place where so much of culture is being formed—online.
Beside us and around us, we inevitably share the same sidewalks. We asked some of our neighbours to introduce themselves.
In April 1873, the members of St. Andrew’s Church gathered for a congregational meeting to discuss the future.
Every day, scores of children reach for the door of Children’s Book Bank in Regent Park. They turn the handle and walk into a new adventure every time.
I was a recipient of generous hospitality. And I needed that welcome, if I ever hoped to be a neighbour myself.
The CEO and the homeless man alike may share one with a whole middle-class family in between. Like the Lord, pews do not play favourites.
Love flows firstly—and most truly—from a place of need. It’s our brokenness that makes neighbours out of us.
Murray Bevan is a community advocate, a father figure, a recent widower, and a fantastic cook. He has lived at Dundas and Sherbourne for over a decade.
I parked on Carlton, just past the dog park in Allan Gardens, and grabbed two large boxes from my trunk. I had a few things to deliver to the church. After ten or twelve blind paces—the heavy boxes obstructed my view—I realized I could not carry them alone.