For many, the word “revival” conjures images of emotional preachers, altar calls, and gospel tents pitched on the edge of town. As a boy from East Trail, I remember the arrival of a revival tent. The giant canvas seemed to promise mystery and possibility. Inside were lively hymns, earnest preaching, and possibilities.

I have come to believe that, like many early British Columbians, I am a prospector, seeking out treasures in moments of wonder.

Some thresholds are chosen, others simply arrive. God can be in both or neither.