Published: November 10, 2025 at 05:20 AM

Tags: travel, gospel, conferences, fellowship, personal, ministry

For the second year in a row, I found myself packing a bag for the Blues Mills Conference in Cape Breton. It’s not a large event by any stretch, a small assembly and a small-to-medium-sized conference, but that’s part of what draws me to it. Some of these smaller gatherings have a different feel to them, a kind of warmth and closeness that’s hard to describe but easy to recognise once you’re there.

Last year’s visit left a good mark on me, so when the invitation and opportunity lined up again, it was hard to imagine saying no.

Getting There – Rides, Catching Up

The logistics for the weekend came together in that quiet, providential way the Lord often works.

Justin was planning to head over for the Saturday with his girlfriend, Charlotte, and offered me a seat. I, of course, wanted to stay for the whole weekend, so I started trying to figure out how that would work. Before long, another brother from our assembly, someone I’m not as close with as I probably should be, though I appreciate him, mentioned that Blues Mills is his home assembly and that he’d be returning Sunday evening. He offered me a ride back.

Just like that, the pieces fell into place. Ride there, ride back, no fuss. It felt like the Lord quietly saying, “If you want to go, I’ll make the way clear.”

It had been a while since I’d seen Charlotte, so the drive over gave us time to catch up. We talked, listened to music, and let the kilometres slip by. At one point we stopped to meet one of Justin’s relatives and grabbed A&W for lunch. I paid for the food; the least I could do in return for the lift and the company.

The drive through Cape Breton was as beautiful as ever. There was still a faint dusting of snow lingering in some of the shaded spots along the roadside, just enough to remind us that winter isn’t far away now.

Conference

The ministry over the weekend was excellent from start to finish. If you’re curious or want to listen for yourself, the audio has been posted here: 2025 Blues Mills Conference – Audio

After the Gospel meeting on Saturday evening, everyone packed up and walked just down the road to the Blues Mills Firehall. It’s a short distance, but it changes the atmosphere: from rows of chairs and a pulpit to a large open room full of voices, instruments, and conversation.

We had a large hymn sing, a short message, and then plenty of food; pizza, chips, and pop; the kind of simple spread that somehow tastes better when you’ve been singing your heart out.

There’s something special about standing in a room full of believers, hymn books open, voices raised together. No stage lights, just ordinary people singing to an extraordinary Saviour. Those are the moments that tend to stick with me.

Staying with the Beatons

When the evening wrapped up, I travelled with Ken Biddington and his wife, along with Joshua McKenna, to the home where we’d be staying: Jimmy and Sarah Beaton’s place.

They were kind and welcoming. Ken and his wife had a room, and Josh and I were given a room with two beds.

Josh is quite a bit younger than I am, but we get along surprisingly well. We ended up talking far too late into the night, some of it profitable, some of it just light chatter, but that’s often how good fellowship works. Time slips away and suddenly the clock looks far less kind than it did an hour earlier.

Saturday – Ministry, Meals, and More Fellowship

Morning came quickly, as it always does when you’ve pushed bedtime a little too far. Sarah had a simple breakfast ready and there was some easy conversation around the table before we headed back to the hall for another full day of ministry.

The sessions were solid and heart-searching, the kind that leave you with more to ponder than you can process in one sitting. Between meetings there was plenty of food and plenty of fellowship, two things the Gospel Halls seem to specialise in.

Downstairs, the meal tables filled up quickly, and the familiar rhythm took over: people shifting seats, catching up with old friends, being introduced to new ones, and doing their best to remember everyone’s names.

Upstairs, the meeting room slowly emptied and filled again as the day went on; chairs straightened, hymn numbers announced, Bibles opened and pages turned.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, Luke (who had originally been my ride home) let me know that his plans had changed and he’d be leaving mid-afternoon on Sunday, before everything wrapped up. I still wanted to stay for all the ministry, and if possible, the closing Gospel meeting.

So, I started quietly looking for another route home.

As it turned out, John McKenna and Tim Elliot had a spare seat in their vehicle and were planning to stay right through the end of the ministry, supper included. They were happy to let me join them for the trip back. I thanked Luke for the original offer and settled into the rest of the weekend without worrying about how I’d get home.

It’s a small thing in the grand scheme of life, but I’ve learned not to take those little provisions for granted.

Heading Home – Late-Night Pizza and the Long Drive Back

By the time the final ministry session finished, the weekend had done what a good conference is supposed to do: it left me with a renewed sense of needing to examine my own walk with Christ. Not in a gloomy way, but in that healthy, searching way that says:

You’ve heard the truth again. Now what are you going to do with it?

The ride home with Josh and Tim was full of laughs and stories, with a bit of serious talk about spiritual things mixed in. I may sound like an old man saying this, but I was genuinely encouraged by how naturally they included me. The age gap didn’t seem to matter much; it just felt like travelling with friends.

We stopped at Tim’s place in Pugwash, shuffled bags around, and switched over to Josh’s car for the final leg back to the Island. I told him he could leave me in Summerside, it would have been much closer to his own route home, and I figured I could find a ride back to O’Leary in the morning.

He wouldn’t hear of it.

Instead, we kept going all the way west. When we reached O’Leary, we stopped at Tim Hortons for some late-night pizza, doughnuts, and coffee, the kind of tired but happy meal that only really happens at the end of a long weekend.

After dropping me off, Josh still had a good drive ahead of him. Judging by how quickly he made it home, I suspect the posted speed limit may have been more of a suggestion that night than a rule.

Looking Back – A Small Conference with a Big Impact

Once again, I find myself deeply thankful for the people the Lord has placed in my life these past few years, hosts, preachers, friends, and those I only see once or twice a year at conferences like this.

Blues Mills isn’t a grand event by the world’s standards, but that’s part of its beauty. It’s a room full of ordinary believers, open homes, late-night conversations, shared meals, and solid ministry that points us back to Christ.

I came home tired, but in the best way, with my heart stirred, my mind full, and my life nudged just a little more in the right direction.

Outside the hall, as the day was winding down, a couple of kids climbed into a nearby tree, enjoying the last bit of afternoon before the long ride home. It felt like the perfect snapshot of the weekend: simple, joyful, and full of life.