An Authentic, Creative, Experimental Community


Here we linger, in the space between dusk and dawn, between a promise and its resolution, between the utter brokenness of the world and the coming of the world as it should be.

And in that liminal space of waiting, we can feel so abandoned, so bereft of hope. We can wonder if any good hovers on the horizon.

But let us lean into you, Lord, into faith and not fear. Let us trust that the hands that fashioned the stars and moulded the mountains are large enough to hold our uncertain fates. And let us look to the incarnation and cling to the hope Jesus brought into the world.

Vintage, go in hope.


To borrow from Jerusalem Greer, so much of 2016 has been full of that gnawing sensation that something is unfinished. So many of us have found that strange sadness wind its way around our hearts in these early days of December.

The season of Advent is full of the pangs of waiting. And we wait for peace.

So, Lord, we ask that you’d be present in our waiting. And let us be present as well.

Let us be peace in our worlds. In the maelstrom of strident voices, let ours be the gentlest. But let us also be disruptive, a ripple to break the surrounding false calm of apathy and self-interest.

You’ve called us to be repairers of the breach, restorers of broken streets. While we wait for you, Jesus, let us heed that call.

Vintage, go in peace.


In a culture that makes even happiness a commodity, it’s hard to know how to sort ourselves. Some of us find joy without knowing how, while others of us to try to manufacture it, maximizing our pleasure quotient or losing ourselves in distractions – those recipes for exhaustion.

But perhaps joy comes like you, Jesus – unexpectedly, suddenly, with clarity and power.

Maybe we find ourselves through surrender, through loosening our clutching, frantic grip. And in doing so, may we find you, Lord.

Vintage, go in peace.