The G7 People’s Forum

Last weekend, I had the privilege of participating in an interfaith event organized by KAIROS Canada, the G7 People’s Forum here in Calgary—a gathering of voices from around the world who are reimagining what true justice and global solidarity look like. With themes like “Turning Debt into Hope” and centering people and planet over profit and power, this was no ordinary policy discussion. It was a prayerful, political, and deeply personal gathering, full of sacred moments and stirring challenges.

One of the most moving moments for me came during a panel on Friday morning featuring Adrian Jacobs—Cayuga elder, teacher, and friend. Adrian spoke of covenant, not as a relic of religion, but as a living relationship. He reminded us of the Silver Covenant Chain between settlers and the Haudenosaunee, a symbol of peace and mutual respect. But as Adrian pointed out, “Europeans forgot the relationship,” and now “polishing the chain” is the sacred work Christians must return to.

That phrase—polishing the chain—has stuck with me. It’s not just metaphorical; it’s the practical theology of reconciliation. In Calgary, this has immediate implications. Through Indigenous ministry, the CRC’s work with CIMC, and Walk as We - a burgeoning Urban Indigenous Ministry in Calgary, I am walking a path of reciprocity and trust. I am saying: this isn’t about charity. It’s about covenant.

His answer wasn’t political—it was theological. It was generous. It was a reminder that our identities are rooted not in power, but in shared creation.

Adrian didn’t stop there. He spoke of the Two Row Wampum—two canoes traveling side by side, distinct but interdependent. The river is shared, but the paths are honoured. “If either house places an obstacle in the path of peace,” he said, “it is the responsibility of the one who placed it to initiate reconciliation.” That’s the kind of spiritual clarity we need more of—not just in churches, but in policy-making, city planning, and international economic justice.

And then he said the thing that brought a lump to my throat: “We believe the Creator made you too.” It was his response to someone asking why Indigenous peoples would still engage the Canadian state after centuries of betrayal. His answer wasn’t political—it was theological. It was generous. It was a reminder that our identities are rooted not in power, but in shared creation.

These truths carry forward into the education work Walk As We is doing this Fall. In Calgary, we’ve asked a Presbyterian congregation to host the next Hearts Exchanged cohort—a CRC initiative aimed at transforming our relationships with Indigenous peoples. Why a Presbyterian Church? Because in the past year, more and more Presbyterians have found themselves woven into the growing network of Indigenous ministry in Calgary. Walk as We, is welcoming them as friends and co-conspirators. This isn’t about expanding programming. It’s about expanding relational kinship.

Hearts Exchanged is built on vulnerability and learning. It invites settlers into a sacred discomfort that Jesus and the Bible often invite us into—a willingness to sit with stories of pain and persistence, and to be changed by them. It also honours Indigenous leadership and the long memory of ceremonies, treaties, and land-based law. I saw all of that reflected at the Forum—whether through the KAIROS Blanket Exercise discussion, or the voices calling us to remember that First Nations, Inuit, and Métis people in Canada continue to live under “third world” conditions, even as this country claims to lead the world stage.

The Forum’s themes of “Turn Debt into Hope,” and “Jubilee” challenged not just nations, but each of us. As someone involved in ministry, I heard echoes of biblical Jubilee through interfaith speakers: land returned, enslaved set free, dignity restored. Luke 4 came to life: “to proclaim good news to the poor… freedom for the prisoners… and release for the oppressed.” This wasn’t just theory. This was testimony—shared by those living under economic occupation, ecological crisis, and spiritual disinheritance. How will we hear the voices of the oppressed? How will include the voices of those who might have been excluded - nothing about them without them.

How will include the voices of those who might have been excluded - nothing about them without them.

The connections between global South and Turtle Island were unmistakable. A Catholic bishop reminded us that the global North owes an “ecological debt” to the South. And as one Indigenous panelist put it, “We are not Canadian citizens. We are sovereign nations. We have our own laws—laws tied to the land, to ceremony, to kinship.” From Banff to Bolivia, it’s the same cry: stop mining our land, stop commodifying our bodies, and start repairing the sacred.

I found myself comparing the Forum’s interfaith speakers to chaplains—a conscience to the G7 governments. I see the role of Indigenous ministries the same way. Not a loud protest from the outside, but a spiritual call from the inside. A call to walk parallel paths, honour treaties, and polish the chains of relationship we once agreed to.

As the Forum closed, Sikhs offered food to everyone—Langar, the practice of serving free communal meals. It was a final reminder that hospitality, humility, and shared humanity are not abstract values. They are embodied. Lived. Practiced.

That’s what we hope to do this Fall, as Hearts Exchanged gathers again. We’re not starting something new. We’re joining something ancient. We’re accepting Adrian Jacobs’ invitation to come back to the table, to honour our responsibilities and treaties, and to remember: the Creator made all in His image.