Before participating in Hearts Exchanged, I had done mostly "head learning" about reconciliation—building a personal library, studying relevant government and First Nations reports, as well as the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, and reading what I could of the Indian Act. My self-education continued through the University of Alberta’s Indigenous Studies course, and my local library provided several credible resources. However, taking in lectures given by Indigenous scholars has been the most enlightening. What I lacked was community.

In Hearts Exchanged, I have found respite with likeminded people who allow me to share freely. I can say and write things that might cause others to roll their eyes or accuse me of "nitpicking" and making something out of nothing. And that is exactly what I’m doing: refusing to ignore what is often seen as trifling.

My co-participants, for instance, heard about my church experience. When I offered a prayer request for reconciliation, I shared a prayer written by an Elder theologian, intended for inclusion in the Prayers of the People as part of our Sunday worship. His prayer was replaced with a settler’s prayer for wisdom in leadership. In that version, prayer for the King came first, above the First Peoples. Indigenous Knowledge Keepers—who have imparted wise precepts since before there was a king—were sidelined. The Prime Minister was next, reinforcing the Indian Act’s edict that Indigenous People are wards of the government, unable to govern themselves. This also disregards nation-to-nation sovereignty. Chiefs and Elders were acknowledged only after my province of Alberta’s Premier, whose administration holds a different legal interpretation of Indigenous sovereignty.

For my church to make a correction would require a common knowledge, or at least a willingness to learn about why these issues matter. It requires understanding why leaving Indigenous leaders out of the prayer altogether would be more respectful than burying them under layers of Canadian authority—which is literally where Canada has seen them since contact. When the mere inclusion of Chiefs and Elders is seen as a progressive act, voicing concerns can baffle the uninformed and be received as ingratitude. It would be seen as "nitpicking." I am grateful I can share these experiences with my Hearts Exchanged friends because they get it. To them, it’s not nothing.

We also share our personal land acknowledgements. I’m not sure I’ll ever finish mine; I am always editing as I find more meaningful expressions of my thankfulness and my failings. In the writing, I have experienced intense gratitude, immense sorrow, and a confession of complicity. At times, it becomes a story of the unaccepted truth; at others, it is succinct and direct. Wherever it falls, it must be sincere in its belated homage to the land and the generations of land stewards who offered to share what we took as our own.

The quality and quantity of the Hearts Exchanged resources deserve mention. This incredible material can easily fill many more hours of study than suggested. Each video, podcast, or article leads to optional others, and the insight of the presenters is invaluable. I am sometimes moved to tears when watching Murray Sinclair’s videos. As with Wilton Littlechild and Marie Wilson, their devotion to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission took a heavy toll, yet they still share their experiences so that others may learn. Their example reminds me that such gracious generosity is what allows hearts to be exchanged.

While my academic studies through the U of A provided me with a vast amount of secular information, Hearts Exchanged imparts knowledge with the awareness that Jesus is a witness to it all. That is a much harder course because it exposes spiritual violence, unacknowledged sin, and the white supremacy of the collective North American Church. Experiencing it all through this lens has me asking why any Indigenous person would want to be a Christian. I am learning the answer. It is telling me a lot about an unimaginably forgiving spirit, the heart of Shalom, and the love of the real, undefiled Jesus. But it also leaves me with similar questions for myself. I think that’s a good thing, and I’m hopeful these questions will lead to better understanding.

Never during this course created by the CRC have I felt like a Lutheran interloper. Here, "going upstream" is the focus—creating change at the headwaters of racism and inequity. Lutherans tend to wait by the rushing waters downriver, barely managing to wrench out a few of the victims of injustice. My experience with Hearts Exchanged has caused me to grapple seriously with where and how to be an unfeigned follower of Jesus as my reconciliation road and my waning life road merge. Only by putting my steps in His footprints will I walk in a good way. And only by walking in a good way will I come closer to Creator.

For more information and to begin planning with your congregation, email [email protected] or visit crcna.org/hearts-exchanged.