is the pastor of. He assumed leadership from George Budd, the former pastor, in 2019. Peltz also is a chaplain at and the interim executive director of . He lives with his wife and teenage daughter in Peterborough, Ontario, about 139 kilometers (86 miles) northeast of Toronto. In February 2024, Peltz was part of a racial justice pilgrimage to the American South. In this edited conversation, he discusses how he has adapted learning from that trip in his congregation of Indigenous people and settlers.
How did you get involved in Indigenous ministry?
I earned a Bachelor of Political Studies from Trent University. I learned a lot about Indigenous issues but also came to realize that I wanted to be a pastor. I did not think that those two interests would ever intersect. But I had stayed in contact with my high school football coach, who was also my youth pastor. He invited my wife and me to help run a summer sports camp for Indigenous communities east of James Bay in northern Quebec. Following this, Cree Christians invited us to help with Bible camps in the area every summer. Since then, Indigenous ministry has always been a component of my pastoral work.
Later on, I earned a Doctor of Ministry from Tyndale University. I used to design a training for Cree mentors with leaders from the Bible camps. Occasionally, I would get invited to teach on Indigenous issues at churches and conferences. One such engagement brought me into contact with George Budd, who invited me to become the pastor of Curve Lake Christian Assembly so he could retire.
How would you describe your congregation?
It is small, averaging about fifteen people in worship. This includes a few preteens and teens, but most are seniors. We’ve had a mix of people with Cree, Anishinaabe, Oneida, and Quechua (from Bolivia) ancestry, along with people of European heritage. Our church is on the reserve, and about half the households represented live on the reserve, mostly older women. The non-Indigenous people are from the surrounding communities, have various European heritages, and have a relational connection to Indigenous people, such as their spouse or adopted children.
Curve Lake Christian Assembly was planted in the 1990s by Baptists who led Bible studies in a senior center and by people from a nearby Pentecostal college. Curve Lake has a long history of collaboration between white and Indigenous people, so our congregation has always been multicultural. We meet at a church building owned and operated by Curve Lake First Nation, which is shared by . The previous pastor was an ordained Baptist. My ordination is through . We’re not formally affiliated with any larger body, but stylistically we resemble other small Baptist churches.
What sticks with you from your February 2024 ?

The 91ÁÔÆæ invited me and my friend Kenny Wallace to join this experiential trip led by . Along with pastors, teachers, and others, we spent a week visiting civil rights sites in Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama and learning about peacemaking with . Kenny and I lead workshops to help Canadians learn about the shared history of Indigenous and non-Indigenous people. We originally went on this trip intending to create an experiential pilgrimage in Canada about shared Indigenous and settler history.
I vividly remember almost every site and person we visited, as well as the rich conversations our cohort had at and between those site visits. Particularly meaningful to me were our visits to in New Orleans, the in Montgomery, and the .
How did the trip affect you?
The ReStory experience was like a pilgrimage. We visited sites that capture the direct, social, and systemic violence that people of color have faced. We met people who are working to teach that history and advocate for more equitable relationships among people groups. Then we processed what we learned from those sites and people alongside our cohort so we could work through the emotions we felt and apply the lessons we learned to our own lives.
Did you see parallels between the American South and First Nations history in Canada?
Yes. In Jackson, Mississippi, we visited in one building, one about civil rights and the other about Mississippi state history. The latter detailed how taking land from Indigenous people and enslaving people to work that land helped white people build wealth. Just as enslaved families were forcibly separated, Curve Lake children in the 1960s were by social services and placed as adoptees with white families. This harmed the social fabric.
In Dulac, Louisiana, we got to talk with , a United Methodist pastor and member of the United Houma Nation. He wasn’t allowed to attend the local public high school because he is Native American. His community has been hard-hit by environmental degradation [from oil rigs] and climate change. These have damaged homes and , . Similarly, I’ve met many First Nations people in Canada who were forced to relocate because of hydroelectric dams. Mining and logging have damaged their historic hunting grounds. More and more often, wildfires force evacuations.
What insights might help you further reconciliation between Indigenous people and settlers at Curve Lake Christian Assembly?
Racial reconciliation is already an important part of our church’s ethical framework, but the ReStory trip helped me understand how African American history intersects with Indigenous history. It motivated me to be more overt about discussing current inequities between people groups and to consider the role of nonviolent action within my own ministry leadership. This latter lesson is very nascent. I want to explore further what it would look like for me and ministry members to participate in nonviolent action.
Our congregational makeup lends itself to discussions about racial reconciliation and awareness of hurts. Yet our congregation is mostly conservative evangelicals who don’t have much social justice framework. Nor did they grow up feeling encouraged to use Indigenous cultural practices in worship or life. There are still deep divisions among Indigenous Christians about whether it is permissible for Christians to participate in practices like drumming, smudging, or sweat lodges. Some view these things as syncretistic or even demonic. Others believe they can be used to worship Jesus and have experienced healing in integrating their faith and culture.
As a pastor, I have often found myself supporting people as they explore the intersection of faith and culture. The ReStory trip helped me recognize that African Americans are asking many of the same questions. This reinforced my conviction that undoing the effects of colonialism requires rethinking the strong link we have formed between European cultural norms and Christianity. This is particularly important for younger Indigenous people, who often embrace some of their parents’ and grandparents’ Christian beliefs but are not interested in participating in church because of its role in suppressing Indigenous culture.
How have worship or congregational life practices changed at your church?
I am not Indigenous, so my role is not to bring about change but to facilitate what is already happening in our church. Shortly before I became pastor, an Anishinaabe woman named [scroll down] started attending. She had many questions about how her Indigenous traditions fit with Christianity. All I had to do was create space for her to raise questions about a particular song, practice, or text. Rich conversations resulted among Indigenous and settlers Christians alike. Sadly, she passed away in 2024. Her family held a , a four-day vigil to help people mourn. I have tried to carry on Pam’s legacy by calling attention to questions she might have asked.
Indigenous people are all about feasts, and Pam was a big part of why we started celebrating monthly communion as a feast. Communion takes the better part of our ninety-minute service, which also includes prayers based on early church prayers. We do the worship service from 9:30 to 10:15 a.m., then enjoy a potluck feast until 11 a.m. is part of many Indigenous cultures in Canada, and we often use it in communion. In many Indigenous cultures and origin stories, represent the hearts and wombs of women. They are a sign of renewal and love between Creator and the earth and all its creatures. So we use strawberry juice for communion in June, the month of the .
Indigenous people are all about feasts, and Pam was a big part of why we started celebrating monthly communion as a feast
Do you use Indigenous music, Bible translations, or other practices in worship?
We have copies on hand, but most of the congregation is used to the New International or King James versions. I experimented for a time with rewriting and telling Bible stories that we talked about together. People loved it, but I don’t have time to keep it up at present. I use the language of Creator in my sermons.
We’ve sung songs translated into Ojibwe or Anishinaabe. I’ve played music in the background at church events. Occasionally congregants are asked to use hand drums in worship, but I leave music choices up to the worship team. We have chosen not to integrate other practices such as smudging into our worship because of people’s mixed feelings about these, but occasionally families will use them as part of funerals and other ceremonies. In these instances, the individuals who feel safe to do so will partake while those who don’t will kindly abstain. I have found Curve Lake a very accommodating place for both perspectives.
And how open are congregants to talking about inequities?
Many have friends or family who are homeless and addicted. They can see how injustice and inequity played a part in their loved ones’ woes. So far we have not engaged in any form of nonviolent social justice action, but I could imagine speaking up locally for the Indigenous community at Burleigh Falls. The federal government hasn’t recognized them as a legitimate nation, so they get less economic help than Curve Lake does, and they have been adversely affected by development projects, such as dams.
Knowing Indigenous history has helped me start conversations with people who aren’t Christian, especially when I’ve been invited to offer a Christian prayer or read a Bible passage at an Indigenous ceremony. I take these invitations as an expression of trust and have found the experiences personally formative.
What opportunities do you have to talk with settler Christians about injustice?
Because of my relationships with Indigenous people, I’m frequently invited to share about racial reconciliation in white evangelical spaces. I’ve come to recognize that white Christians need to hear from both Indigenous people and white allies to shift how they think about race relations. Hearing from Indigenous people helps us empathize with and learn from them. Hearing from white allies helps us see what we can become over time.
I use tools like the KAIROS Blanket Exercise, documentaries, panel discussions, and stories from my ministry to help people understand how Christians have wounded Indigenous people and how we can contribute to the healing of our peoples’ relationship.
And what about the Indigenous pilgrimage that you and Kenny Wallace dreamed about?
The United States is more densely populated than Canada is, so it has more civil rights or social justice places clustered together. Indigenous sites in Canada are more geographically diffuse, which complicates planning a pilgrimage. Still, there are sites in Ontario and Quebec that we could visit. is a park that recreates Ontario’s first European community—a seventeenth-century French Jesuit mission to the Huron-Wendat people. The Indigenous people welcomed the missionaries to live alongside them.
Missionaries from other cultures and Christian traditions had less appreciation for Indigenous culture than the French Jesuits did. in Brantford, Ontario, is set up as a museum in a former residential school. So many , where many died or went missing. We could visit , to learn more about the 1990 Oka Crisis, a violent standoff between the Canadian military and Mohawk people defending their land. And we could visit that are dedicated to improving Indigenous life and doing community-led research and training.