“This country was not founded on freedom.  It was founded on stolen land, cleared by slaughter, and built by stolen people, broken by force.” These are the words of Lyle W Fass in an Instagram post entitled “Why Is America Like This.”

How has America become what it is today?

I am Susan Green, a facilitator for the Sacred Ground program, which was developed almost six years ago by the Episcopal Church.  It is made up of books, articles, and videos that challenge participants to travel back in history, peeling away layers of sanitized facts to discover the truth about how America came to be what it is today.

The Sacred Ground program is based on small dialogue circles where participants come together to reflect on the challenging content of the 11-part curriculum, which focuses on Indigenous, Black, Latino, and Asian/Pacific American histories. Woven into these histories are family stories, economic class, as well as political and regional identity.

The circles become communities built upon deep listening and trust as the participants get to know each other.  As the community builds, it is designed to become a safe place to express anger and grief as these emotions well up in the participants’ reflections.

Sacred Ground is a part of the work of Becoming Beloved Community, the commitment, by the Episcopal Church, to racial healing, reconciliation, and justice in our personal lives, our religious communities, and in society.

Well over 1,200 people in our diocese and 25,000 across the country have participated since the initial launch of Sacred Ground.  Our collective outrage over the murder of George Floyd in 2020 kept that momentum alive.  And although that may have waned somewhat, the need to engage in this kind of conversation has not. In fact, today’s current climate of disinformation and polarization increases the value of this program rooted in faith.

On September 2, our new Presiding Bishop, Sean Rowe, spoke to a large gathering of Sacred Ground facilitators and organizers for the launch of a new year of Sacred Ground. He told us how he organized an early circle of bishops to experience the program first hand.  Now considering Sacred Ground to be “a key tool for doing the Lord’s work,” Bishop Rowe emphasized the need to continue through our Christian faith resisting injustice, honoring the dignity of all people, and renouncing evil in the world.

Everyone is invited to participate in Sacred Ground. We welcome repeat participants as well as newcomers. The next informational meeting will be on October 1 from 3-4 pm on Zoom.  The next circle will begin on Wednesday, October 22, 3-5 pm, also on zoom. Watch the diocesan news for more information about the Zoom invitations. Join Nan Hardison, co-facilitator, and me as we delve into the buried truth about why America is like it is.

This past summer, I served as a camp chaplain for the fourth year in a row, and something clicked in a way it hadn’t before: I finally get the magic of summer camp. I don’t just mean I understand the fun of s’mores or silly songs or sleeping in cabins (though I do). I mean, I finally understand why people talk about camp like it’s holy ground–because it is. The magic of summer camp is the same magic I’ve always known in church: people coming together, learning to love each other, growing in relationship, and practicing what it means to belong.

At its heart, summer camp is about community–the type of community Jesus invites us to. It’s about being deeply known and wildly accepted. In a world where so much is transactional, hierarchical, or image-driven, camp–and church–offers a radical alternative. You matter here not because of how you look or how much money your family has, or what you can achieve. You matter because you’re you.

Camp strips things down to what’s essential. There’s no need to perform. Kids don’t have their phones. Makeup doesn’t matter. Clothing trends don’t define anyone. What rises to the surface are the qualities that truly sustain life: kindness, empathy, courage, creativity, joy. These values are not just encouraged–they are the currency of camp. They are celebrated, practiced, and passed around like friendship bracelets or bug spray.

As a chaplain, I get to float among cabins and activities. I lead worship under oaks and pines and grape leaves. I talk about God by the fire pit. I offer support when homesickness hits or when someone feels left out. But mostly, I get to witness the sacred work of friendship and formation. And I’m convinced: this is discipleship. This is church.

Every summer, kids flock to camps for fun and independence. Yet what they remember most aren’t the ropes courses or canoe rides–it’s the friends. Camp friendships are forged in the intensity of shared experience: whispering in bunks at night, singing at community gathering, struggling together through team challenges, or laughing uncontrollably during skits and celebrations. These bonds go deep, fast. And for many, they last a lifetime.

Why? Because camp removes the filters. There’s no scrolling, no selfies, no social media anxiety. Campers spend days unplugged and fully present. They get to know each other face-to-face, moment by moment. In today’s screen-saturated world, this kind of connection is both rare and healing.

Camp friendships aren’t based on social status or clique dynamics. Kids aren’t sorted by grades or extracurriculars or Instagram followers. They’re mixed together–shy kids, confident kids, goofy kids, introverts, extroverts–and invited into a shared life. For many, it’s the first time they experience unconditional belonging. 

Camp doesn’t care about what neighborhood you’re from or what labels you carry at school. It asks, instead: What brings you joy? What’s your favorite game? Want to sit with us?

I’ve watched campers show up hesitant and guarded, unsure if they’ll fit in. Within a day or two, they’re painting faces, sharing stories, playing gaga ball like they’ve known each other forever. This isn’t accidental–it’s intentional. Camp is structured to foster trust, connection, and inclusion.

In many ways, camp becomes a sanctuary from the harsh realities of judgment and exclusion. It echoes the way Jesus welcomed people–on the basis of their humanity, not their status. When camp is done well, it models what a church can be: a place where people are received with delight, not evaluation.

Camp isn’t always easy. That’s part of the magic. Kids face challenges–being away from home, trying new activities, navigating cabin dynamics. But here’s the beauty–they do it together. They learn to solve problems, ask for help, and try again after failure. And they’re surrounded by friends and counselors cheering them on.

This builds emotional and spiritual resilience. Campers learn they can handle discomfort. They discover they can be brave and vulnerable. They realize that community is built not in perfection, but in practice–in showing up, day after day, with grace and grit.

This is formative work. It prepares kids not just for school or adulthood, but for discipleship. It teaches them what it means to be part of a beloved community–imperfect, messy, real–and how to keep showing up for one another. Isn’t that the very essence of Christian life?

Camp is church without the pews. It’s worship without the bulletin. It’s theology lived in real time, around a campfire or at the edge of a trail. It’s prayer in motion, in the form of shared meals, spontaneous laughter, and quiet moments of awe under the stars.

Kids at camp learn about the God who delights in their creativity, who meets them in their questions, who walks with them in friendship. They learn that sacred things don’t only happen in buildings. They happen in games, in trust falls, in songs sung out of tune.

As my week as a chaplain ended, I asked myself: How can we bring this magic into our churches? Can we create communities that are just as welcoming, where people are met without judgment? Can we build relationships that go deep, fast–because time is short and love matters more than image? Can we structure our ministries to foster real connection, rather than just polished programming? Yes. Because the magic of camp is not a mystery. It’s just love, practiced fiercely and freely.

Camp taught me (again) that people are hungry for belonging; that kids thrive when they are trusted; that friendships forged in shared experiences become sacred bonds; that when we slow down, unplug, and listen to each other–God shows up. That camp is holy ground.

If you would like to learn more about Camp Stevens, visit www.campstevens.org

When I started as the Director of the Ramona Youth Collaborative this past Easter, I had a strong sense that something special was beginning—but I couldn’t have predicted just how much life and energy this program would bring to our community in just a few months. The Ramona Youth Collaborative (RYC) is more than a youth group. It’s a movement—four churches coming together across denominational lines to do something bold: offer a radically welcoming space for middle and high schoolers to show up as they are, be truly seen, and know they belong.

The idea was sparked by a group of clergy who shared a common concern—what about the kids who feel like they don’t fit in? What about the ones who are questioning their identity or faith, who feel judged, silenced, or simply invisible in traditional religious spaces? In Ramona, a beautiful but often conservative mountain town, those questions are urgent. The Rev. Hannah Wilder of St. Mary’s-in-the-Valley Episcopal Church put it plainly: “In a town like Ramona, where youth sometimes feel like they have to hide who they are, we are creating a space where they feel they are seen, valued, and matter.”

So, Rev. Hannah, along with the Rev. Wes Ellis of First Congregational Church, Rev. Kristi Grimaud of Ramona United Methodist Church, and Pastor Lawrence Hand of Spirit of Joy Lutheran Church, took a leap of faith. They formed the Ramona Youth Collaborative—RYC for short—and hired me to lead it.

Here’s what’s been happening since:

We kicked things off with weekly trips to the beach. No agenda—just time to connect, play in the surf, and start forming bonds. Then in August, we officially launched with our first Sunday gathering at First Congregational Church, where we meet weekly. We read the Bible together, ask questions, play games, eat snacks, and talk about what matters to us. We wrestle with what faith means in our everyday lives and how to make sense of the world around us through a lens of love, justice, and grace. I’m not here to give kids all the answers—I’m here to help them become the kind of people who ask courageous questions and look out for one another.

That’s what RYC is all about—belonging. We don’t ask anyone to check their identity at the door. We honor each person’s unique story. Whether a kid is shy or outspoken, curious or skeptical, gay or straight, churched or unchurched—they are welcome here. We create space for all of it, because we believe Jesus does too.

And we don’t stop at spiritual conversation. Our teens are already getting involved in hands-on service projects that make a real difference. This summer, we helped with food distribution at the Ramona Food and Clothes Closet. We’re getting ready to serve at Open Door, the weekly community meal hosted by First Congregational. And in January, we’re planning to take a group on a mission trip to Ensenada, Mexico to build homes for families in need—a continuation of the kind of outreach I’ve loved doing for years in my work with churches in Chula Vista and La Mesa.

For me, volunteering and giving back isn’t optional—it’s part of discipleship. Jesus tells us to love our neighbors, and that’s not just a metaphor. These service experiences are deeply formative. When teens hand out food, hammer nails into a frame, or sit with someone who’s struggling, their faith becomes real. They start to see that their life matters, their actions have impact, and they’re capable of leading.

And that’s one of my biggest hopes for the future of RYC—that it becomes a launching pad for young leaders. I want to equip teens with the skills, confidence, and compassion they need to lead in their churches, schools, and neighborhoods. We’re planting seeds now that will grow for years to come.

Of course, this kind of ministry takes resources. RYC has an annual budget of about $80,000, which covers my salary, materials, transportation, and programming. We’ve received a generous $16,000 grant from the Missing Voices Project, a religious network committed to supporting marginalized youth. Each of the four churches also contributes financially and with volunteers. We’re pursuing additional grants and donations to ensure RYC not only survives but thrives.

We’re still early in the journey, but I already see the fruit: teens opening up, friendships forming across school and church lines, and the Spirit of God moving in quiet but powerful ways. One parent told me her daughter came home from our first meeting and said, “I finally found a place where I don’t have to pretend.”

That’s it. That’s the whole point.

As Rev. Hannah says, “Often people think being Christian means excluding people who don’t fit the mold. But it doesn’t mean that. It means flinging the door wide open—welcoming people, and helping them feel like they belong and matter, without having to change.”

That’s the kind of church I want to be part of. That’s the kind of community we’re building here in Ramona. And I believe it’s possible anywhere.

If you want to learn more, support us, or get involved, you can reach me at ray@ramonayouthcollaborative.com or stop by my office at First Congregational Church of Ramona Monday through Thursday between 9:30 a.m. and 2 p.m. I’d love to tell you more about what God is doing here—through friendship, through faith, and through the beautiful, messy, world-changing lives of teenagers.

A popular hymn at ordinations, Here I Am, Lord, focuses on one of the most powerful questions we can ask ourselves: “God, what are you calling me to do with my life?”  A question stands at the heart of all our Christian lives, but it especially applies to discernment—a structured process for those drawn toward ordination.

Discernment, at its core, is the holy art of listening. It is a prayerful practice of attuning ourselves to God’s voice, weighing the stirrings of our hearts against the wisdom of Scripture, tradition, and the community of faith. For Episcopalians, discernment is not a solitary act. It unfolds within the Body of Christ, through conversation with trusted mentors, participation in parish life, and ultimately through the gathered wisdom of the Church.

For many people, the first nudges of God’s call come quietly. Perhaps you find yourself drawn more deeply into prayer, scripture study, or service. Maybe others begin to see gifts in you that you cannot yet see in yourself: the ability to comfort those in grief, the skill to teach with clarity and joy, or the willingness to lead when leadership is needed.

In the Episcopal Church, a call to “something more” may take many forms. Some are called to strengthen the ministry of the laity–through pastoral care, administration, advocacy, or outreach. Others discover that their gifts resonate with the particular roles of deacons, who serve as bridges between the church and the world, proclaiming the needs of the marginalized and urging the Church toward service. Still others may sense a pull toward the priesthood–leading worship, preaching the gospel, and shepherding God’s people in the sacraments and the rhythms of daily life.

A call is not always dramatic or obvious. Rarely does it arrive like a lightning bolt. More often, it is like a seed, planted and watered, slowly growing until it can no longer be ignored. The work of discernment is to nurture that seed, test it, and see if it bears good fruit.

One of the beautiful truths of our Episcopal tradition is that no one discerns alone. While each person must wrestle with their own sense of call, the Episcopal Church insists that the wider community test and affirm that call. We believe that the Holy Spirit speaks not only through individual hearts but also through the gathered.

That is why those exploring ordination begin by talking with their priest, and why parish discernment committees meet with them over many months. These committees listen, ask hard questions, and pray alongside the individual. They help a discerner distinguish between personal desire, external pressure, and a genuine call from God. Later, the diocese’s Commission on Ministry and the bishop continue this work, ensuring that the Church as a whole recognizes and supports the call.

This communal discernment protects the Church and strengthens the individual. It acknowledges that ministry belongs not to one person but to the whole people of God, knit together by baptism. To be called is never to be elevated above others; it is to be invited into deeper service, with the community’s blessing and accountability.

But why does ordination matter? Ordination reminds us that ministry is not self-appointed. A priest does not stand at the altar because of personal ambition, but because the Church has prayed, tested, and entrusted them with that sacred responsibility. A deacon does not proclaim the gospel merely out of interest, but because the Spirit and the community together have affirmed that gift. Ordination embodies the truth that all authority in the Church flows from Christ, not from individual preference.

If you sense God might be calling you to something more, the first step is simple: pray. Ask God to guide your heart, to quiet your fears, and to open your ears to the Spirit’s whisper. Then, talk to someone you trust—your priest, a spiritual director, or a faithful friend. Pay attention to the places where others affirm your gifts. And be patient. Discernment is a journey, not a sprint.

The act of discerning is one of the greatest adventures of faith. In it, we discover not only who we are, but whose we are: beloved children of God; “Is it I, Lord? I have heard you calling in the night. I will go, Lord, if you lead me.”

The Commission on Ministry will host two upcoming Days of Information for those exploring a call to ordained ministry: the first on September 20, 10:00 a.m.–2:00 p.m. at St. Paul in the Desert, Palm Springs (125 W El Alameda, Palm Springs, CA 92262), and the second on October 18, 10:00 a.m.–2:00 p.m. at the Episcopal Church Center in Ocean Beach (2083 Sunset Cliffs Blvd, San Diego, CA 92107). If you are considering discernment, please speak with your clergyperson before registering, and clergy are encouraged to attend alongside their discerners.

REGISTER

Unless you’ve gone through it, it’s hard to imagine the grueling experience of Marine Corps boot camp. Recruits are hundreds of miles away from home, maybe for the first time in their lives, aren’t permitted to speak with any loved one or friends back home, face huge physical, mental, and emotional challenges every day–for thirteen long, demanding weeks-on-end. They emerge proud, prepared, and ready to serve, but the process of getting there is tough. Some of the only ‘downtime’ (other than sleeping) a recruit gets is three hours each Sunday morning to attend worship, if they choose to.

The Marine Corps Recruiting Depot (MCRD) in San Diego (near the airport) is where almost all recruits who live west of the Mississippi—more than 20,000 a year—come for basic training. Currently, there is no Episcopal worship service offered at MCRD. But we have been invited, as a diocese, to change this!

We are putting together a team of priests, deacon and lay people who will offer the Eucharist, a time for group discussion and individual conversation, and the showing of an episode of The Chosen every Sunday morning from 8:00-10:45. Our goal is to recruit enough volunteers so no one needs to serve more than once every couple of months, unless they’d like to. We’re hoping to launch this meaningful new ministry in October.

If you’d like to sign up to help with Sunday services at MCRD, or if you’d like to learn more about this opportunity to serve our neighbors experiencing one of the most vulnerable times in their lives, please contact the Rev Douglas Worthington, the rector of All Souls’ in Point Loma, at dworthington@allsoulspointloma.org.

These brave young women and men have volunteered to serve their country in ways many of us have never contemplated, and they’re going through an unrelenting ordeal to prepare. How comforting and reassuring for them it will be for us to come alongside them, each week, to let them know how deeply they’re loved, carried, and cared for by Christ–and by us in the Episcopal Church.

A burning bush, angelic appearances, an overwhelming catch of fish—being ‘called’ in the Bible often involves miracles and supernatural circumstances. Mine did not. No divine voice boomed, “Become a vocational deacon, Gigi.” But when I think about it, my path to the diaconate had themes in common with those earlier invitations, elements that guide all of us to a greater understanding of discipleship.

The first theme is receptivity – actively listening for God’s still, small voice and being open to its beckoning. Jesus speaks directly to Peter, telling him to put aside his fishing nets, so he can “catch people.” An angel leads Mary to mother a movement that will change the world.

My call started with a trusted friend and mentor, who gently asked if I’d ever considered the diaconate. I had very few reference points. I grew up in the Episcopal church, but none of the parishes that I worshipped at had deacons. I’d heard the Steely Dan song Deacon Blues, but I was fairly sure that wasn’t going to be helpful. At the time, I was coordinating a hot breakfast ministry for unhoused folks and advocating for affordable housing. So, when she told me a deacon is the bridge between the Church and the world, especially encouraging the voices of the marginalized, I was intrigued.  

Another theme of my call was recognizing that God created each of us specifically and loves us unconditionally. When I finally understood the diaconal call, I only knew two people who had pursued it – a licensed marriage and family counselor and a history professor with extensive knowledge of theology and spirituality. I’m not a mental health care professional or an intellectual heavyweight, so I felt like Peter when Jesus asked him to follow. Me? You must be kidding.

Then I remembered the series of parish profiles I wrote. I heard stories of transformation and change that could only be the work of the Holy Spirit. I realized that God gives each of us unique gifts for holy work; we have everything we need to take our place in God’s expansive community if we only believe it.

God’s call takes time to come to fruition; that’s our third theme. Paul was rounding up and persecuting Christians long before accepting Jesus’ invitation to proclaim His Good News. I spent over twenty years teaching Sunday School – many of them as a Godly Play storyteller. I learned to recognize the inherent spirituality of everyone, especially the youngest of my siblings in Christ. Sharing our wonderings about God helped me to see how the Holy Spirit was moving in my own life.

My diaconal call evolved over three years. It involved two years of study through the West Coast Collaborative (WCC), field placement, and a process of discernment aided by individuals and groups of folks who helped me make sense of God’s whisperings.

That point leads me to the fourth call theme – community. It’s not always easy to perceive what God is calling us to do and be; we need each other’s guidance, as well as God’s. Paul, struck blind, was helped by his friends into Damascus, where he was compassionately cared for and ultimately healed by Jesus’ disciples.

Community shaped my journey of discipleship. A group of women became trusted companions on the way, meeting weekly for reading, discussions, and discovering. Working with Sacred Ground circles and LARK workshops revealed the injustices of racial inequality and the necessity of repentance as a guidepost to reconciliation.

To build relationships between volunteers and our neighbors in need after our community breakfast on Saturday mornings, several of us developed a short prayer liturgy. One of our neighbors calls it the Table of Kindness; it’s a space for sharing moments of suffering, resilience, and hope. Together, we’re extending God’s table outside the sanctuary into the world via a picnic table on the lawn.

I could not have followed the sacred path to ordination were it not for the loving WCC community of mentors and postulants who gathered online every Thursday evening for sharing, learning, and discussing theological and practical assignments. Both my sending and field placement parishes held me close in loving care, even as they allowed me to delight in new ministries and liturgical presence.

The fifth theme – trust – is a summary of the previous four, because well, life happens. And though God’s way is simple, it isn’t easy. Peter bowed to political pressure, denying Jesus before recognizing him as the Messiah and working tirelessly to spread his gospel of love.

My discernment process was marked by joys and struggles – family deaths and births, a move to a new home, and assorted illnesses. I told my spiritual director and anyone who would listen that I was holding the call lightly, and I knew that I could pause my diaconal work at any time. My mantra became a verse from John 15 “Abide in me, as I abide in you”, and somehow, there was always time and grace to accomplish God’s purposes.

So, Scripture helps us understand five themes of the Divine call to discipleship – being open to God, recognizing our gifts, taking time, discerning in community, and trusting God’s direction. It’s important to note that, though my call ultimately resulted in ordination, God welcomes us all into holy work of renewal. The invitation to discipleship is different for each of us and changes from season to season in our lives, but everyone has a part to play in the restoration of God’s creation, which is torn apart by division and exclusion. 

I am called to be a deacon. What are you called to? 

If you are considering a call to the ordained ministry or would just like to learn more, join Diocesan leaders at the Day of Information scheduled for September 20 from 10:00-2:00 at St. Paul in the Desert in Palm Springs and October 18 from 10:00-2:00 at the Episcopal Church Center in Ocean Beach. Registration is required.

The leadership of the Episcopal Diocese of San Diego is aware of an allegation made on social media against the Rev. Roger Haenke, rector of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Chula Vista. The post alleges sexual misconduct with a minor, and we are taking this seriously.

The diocese has notified law enforcement and child protective services and is cooperating fully with civil authorities. Additionally, a formal disciplinary proceeding under Title IV of The Episcopal Church’s Canons—the church’s process for addressing clergy misconduct—has been initiated. 

Fr. Haenke is on a previously scheduled medical leave and will remain on leave until further notice. 

“The safety of all members of our congregations and communities—especially children—is our highest priority,” said Bishop Susan Brown Snook, bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of San Diego. “As Christians, we are called to hold one another to account, and we are committed to reconciliation and healing if we fall short of our own ideals.”

The Rev. Canon Gwynn Lynch, Canon to the Ordinary, is a senior diocesan leader and was present at St. John’s on Sunday to read a pastoral letter to the congregation and offer support. That letter is available online here.

Anyone with information related to this matter is encouraged to contact the police, Child Protective Services, and the diocesan intake officer, the Rev. Willy Crespo, listed at https://edsd.org/safe-church-safe-communities/reporting-misconduct/ or call the diocesan office at 619-291-5947.

We ask for your prayers for everyone impacted by this situation.

I have heard it (and maybe said it myself) so many times in church:  ‘don’t send it to committee.’  Whatever ‘it’ is, it is not uncommon for even the most dedicated Episcopalian to get frustrated at times by the church’s slowness to action when facing an opportunity, getting mired in detail.

Our society has seen a dramatic change in the view of institutional process in the last 50 years.  We have a church that was built on not only the Book of Common Prayer but also the Constitution and Canons, Parochial Reports, and committees for everything.  It can seem like we’re stuck in molasses as we administer our affairs in a world primed for social media, quick reaction, and fast change.

As a full-time church administrator, I am no stranger to these sentiments.  In my current role, I am often the one calling for detail, process, and order to our governance.  That has been a growing edge for me, because as a parish priest I was very much in the camp of ‘the institution needs reform because it’s too stuck in the past.’  I very much believed that the structures and mechanisms of the church had become too separated from the mission of the Church.

But I’ve been in the role of Diocesan Treasurer and the Bishop’s Canon for Finance for a few years now.  My position has given me new insight into our administrative processes in the church, and I’ve come to not only appreciate its value but to also believe there is a case for making finance, governance, and leadership (church administration) a spiritual practice rather than seeing it as an impediment to mission.

I would suggest that a primary focus of church administrators (by which I mean anyone paid or unpaid, lay or clergy, providing this ministry to the community) is to hold the community together.  As Episcopalians, the church is primarily a community:

1. What is the Church
2. The Church is the community of the New Covenant

– BCP Catechism, p. xxx

A community requires trust, and administrators are, in large part, stewards of the trust that church members place in their community.  A good church administrator must take action not based on his or her own opinions, but focused on how to bring transparency, honesty, and clarity to the community; to take action based on deepening trust among the congregation.

The specific practices and tools that administrators use to steward that trust may seem unexciting.  Producing financial statements and following Robert’s Rules aren’t the reasons anyone I know goes to Church.  But if that trust is broken or if it isn’t tended to, it has too often been the reason why people don’t go to Church (just think of financial irregularities or voices not being heard).  And perhaps with good reason; without trust, it’s hard to be a community of faith.

Stewardship has a deep history in our tradition.  Over and over again, the Bible has stories of stewardship as discipleship.  It’s unfortunate that the word stewardship has come to be limited in many circles to fundraising.  Stewardship does include how we care for our funds, but it is so much broader.  A steward is one who does not own the property him/herself but holds it for another who does own it.  The steward ensures that it is used wisely and effectively, not for the steward, but for the owner who placed their trust in the steward.

Church administrators steward many things: funds, property, volunteer time, and so many others.  But the key that makes us stewards is the discernment on behalf of the one who we hold these things for.  For me, that question is:  How do we organize the resources and people of the church to better love God and love others?

And that question is a big question; perhaps it’s THE big question.   What are the practices in your congregation that exist to discern how to use your resources to love God and love others?  In my experience, they are practices of community.  That may mean a finance committee prays before making a difficult decision about how to spread funding.  It may mean that the whole parish is invited to a conversation about building housing on vacant church land.  It may mean that vestry meetings are structured in a way that encourages all voices to be heard, even the unpopular views.  It may mean practicing forbearance when you really don’t want ‘it’ to go to committee, because going to committee promotes order and trust, and valuing life in community requires practice.

Who are these administrators, these stewards?  The answer to that has changed over the past decades.  Once upon a time, most churches had a paid employee to take care of many of these functions for them—and some still do.  But an increasing number of churches find their administrators in the pews, coming from many different backgrounds with a wide variety of gifts.  Priests are spread thin with less time for routine tasks, and churches, even large ones, can no longer rely on paid staff to do the hard work of stewardship and administration.  We have volunteer parish administrators, volunteer treasurers, volunteer committee chairs- each tasked with caring about this stewardship function deeply.  As leadership in the church changes, it may be an opportunity for the Church to more fully live into who we proclaim to be, if these new leaders (all of us) can focus on the practices that make administration into a ministry.

The bishop and the rest of us on her staff believe that it is possible to have administration rooted in mission.  For that reason, we are offering a new workshop day this fall.  Finance, Governance, and Property (FGP) will be a day where we can explore this call to missional administration together as a diocese.  All are welcome, and the day is especially structured for lay/volunteer administrators, whether you are a treasurer, committee chair, volunteer staff, or are just interested in how to steward the resources of the church in a way that intentionally works to love God and love each other.

We will have sessions on financial stewardship, property maintenance, mission and money, real estate stewardship, and leadership.  The day is modeled very similarly to Leadership academy (our spring offering focusing more on discipleship, formation, evangelism, and outreach).

Finance, Governance,  Property workshop will be held at Good Samaritan Episcopal Church in UTC, San Diego, on September 13 from 8:30 – 2:00.  Lunch will be provided with your registration fee. Please RSVP your attendance today!

I have taken thousands of church-related photos that tell stories of radical hospitality, prayerful presence, and the magnetic joy of the church in action. Photographs are not just pictures; they are profound storytellers and emotional messengers. Nowhere is this more impactful than in the sacred spaces of our churches. Through photography, we can capture the spirit of the community, the sanctity of worship, and the vibrant life of faith of our church.

Good photographs can evoke feelings of awe and reverence–they are a bridge, connecting those within the church community and reaching out to those who might be looking for a spiritual home. Offering examples of solace, celebrating joyous occasions, and fostering a sense of belonging is especially important in a world where digital presence can enhance or even substitute for physical presence.  

I am excited to announce this year’s Church Photography 101 workshop, scheduled for September 13th from 9:00 AM to 3:00 PM at Resurrection Episcopal Church in Ocean Beach. Whether you are a photographer keen on using your cellphone more effectively or an experienced photographer looking to refine your skills, this workshop is designed for you.

Led by the talented Diocesan Photographer Susan Forsburg and EDSD Director of Communications Chris Tumilty, this workshop explores the art of capturing beauty and joy in church life. These expert instructors bring a wealth of knowledge and a deep passion for both photography and the church community.

Simeon Bruce, Director of Communications at St. Andrew’s in Encinitas, who participated in 2024, said, “I cannot stop telling people how good this workshop was, seriously. And I’m already using what I learned to improve my work at St. Andrew’s. This workshop truly took me from ‘Yeah, I have a vague idea of what looks good in a photo’ to ‘Oh, now I get WHY it looks good and have an idea of how I might try to achieve that.’

Participants learn essential photography principles such as the exposure triangle—understanding how aperture, shutter speed, and ISO work together to create the perfect shot. Combined with tips and tricks for improving composition through positioning, the rules of thirds, leading lines, and more, this workshop distills years of experience into a one-day training.

Photo 101 is designed to be hands-on. It’s not just about listening and learning; it’s about doing. Participants will have the opportunity to take their own photographs during the event, which will then be reviewed in a supportive group setting. 

An important aspect of church photography that will be covered during the workshop is the appropriate use of photos. Understanding what images are suitable for sharing and how they can be used respectfully and effectively to communicate the life and work of Jesus Christ at your church is crucial. Photos are a powerful tool, but they must be used wisely, especially in a context as intimate as a church environment.

The ultimate goal of good church photography is to share the story of your church through images effectively–showcasing the life and work of Jesus Christ as lived out by our communities in vibrant color (…or in black and white). Photographs can highlight worship services, community activities, outreach efforts, and the everyday moments that make up the life of our church. By sharing these images, we invite others into our community, offering them a glimpse of the fellowship and divine love that define our congregations.

Join us at the Church Photography 101 workshop to learn how you can contribute to this essential ministry and help share the powerful story of faith, hope, and love that your church embodies. Register for Church Photo 101 here.

In Matthew, we get this picture of Jesus:

“He called a child, whom he put among them, and said, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.”

It’s no secret that St Luke’s has been blessed to welcome lots of children. There are many Sundays when the number of children and youth matches the number of adults in our pews. Yet, it had been 50 years since the last Vacation Bible School took place on our campus. For many years we were the grateful recipients of Christ Church Coronado’s generosity and partnership in their Camp Create, and before that a partnership with St. Paul’s Cathedral for Camp Spirit, both beloved traditions of diocesan “family life” among our children and youth. This year, though, we had a different Holy Spirit nudge- it was time to bless our kids, our neighbors, and our diocese with a St Luke’s VBS at home.

The initial “why” became clear quickly. VBS can be an effective tool for connecting children and families to God and the church, plus the community we serve benefits immensely from summer childcare support.

The “how” was a bit terrifying. We share our cozy campus with two other churches, Refugee Net and their weekly food distribution, an incoming Montessori preschool, AA meetings, multiple independent chefs, and now a giant affordable housing construction project. Transportation is a challenge–half our children and teens need rides to participate. Budget limitations keep St. Luke’s entire, already busy, staff at part-time hours. There was also very little money for VBS. 

Thanks in no small part to the cheerleading of Diocesan CYF Director Leighton Jones and Diocesan Formation Director Charlette Preslar, along with the adventurous leadership of our pastors and vestry, we took the leap anyway. We used the diocesan provided (free!) VBS curriculum, this year called PATH created by Charlette Preslar, as a base for our week. It was a practical and helpful tool, which included everything from monthly/weekly/daily timelines and step-by-step art project directions to graphics, daily verses, games, and even a prepared t-shirt print company. Having a solid logistical and thematic base in PATH made it much easier to build what we needed for our context. Which for us involved accommodations for preschoolers, a chapel time, Godly Play stories, and some integration with Refugee Net. 

Our whole church staff took this VBS calling seriously. Fr Colin led full days of four square and gaga ball, Mtr Laurel told hours of Godly Play stories. Amani Ago ran an elaborate ground control operation with pick-up vans, driven by the Rev. Isaiah Dau, Ted Larive, and Paul Reams. Jon Paramore led groups of children through a service project with Refugee Net, hosted by Katherine Bom and Nadia Agory. Sarah Hankins did a literal song and dance to help the kids create skits. Christiana Rice pulled together her talented family, plus five teens in our youth group, to create a worship band. Fargin Neim went on more than a handful of Costco runs. Even our accountant, Michael Mawien, jumped in and handed out hot dogs and pizza to hungry kids. 

There was also the generous congregational and community support, which ranged from creating art to registering campers and from serving lunch to reading picture books to sun-weary kids. We wore our matching shirts, and my heart overflowed with all the collaboration–the body of Christ in action. Working together made this effort not only possible and sustainable, but honestly fun. 

Then there were the teens. What started as a practical need for extra bodies to supervise children quickly turned into a clear ministry goal. At one point in the midst of a heated game of musical chairs, facilitated completely by an 8th-grade boy from our youth group,  Father Colin leaned over to me and said, “Are we actually doing this for the teens?” It turns out, maybe we were. When our teens served, they were different–responsible, empathetic, problem-solving, up in front reading scripture and giving testimonies, and off their phones. 

There were also incredible moments from the children. One boy spontaneously shared his own family’s refugee story with pride as the children prepared to distribute food to more recent arrivals. A group of children new to Godly Play clamored for extra stories in the Sacred Story Room. Many kids learned to use a prayer labyrinth for the first time. Some very small, very new English speakers confidently belted out the chorus to “My Lighthouse” with huge smiles, surrounded by friends. The week ended with a beautiful explosion of divine joy as our whole church family danced around our kids as they led us in a Swahili song, “Yesu, Ni Wangu” or “Jesus is My Eternal Glory.”

During our VBS week, we served 48 kids and empowered 17 teen volunteers. 21 of those young people were not normally on our Sunday ministry rosters. More than the numbers, though, our VBS was a celebration of a courageous, whole church offering- a coming together of our various ministry areas and talents to make something together to serve these children of God, which served our larger congregation and our neighborhood. 

In our storeroom, when one child asked, “Why doesn’t God make everyone happy and everything peaceful?” another child responded with, “I think it might be because God wants us to help make things beautiful.”

Did we all fall into our beds at the end of the day, covered in chalk and rainbow beads? Yes. Will our sanctuary ever be free of confetti? Probably not. Are our hearts expanded, our relationships fortified, our awareness of Christ’s presence more acute? Yes, yes, absolutely yes.

I’m pretty sure that if Jesus had pony beads, he’d have handmade rainbow bracelets up to his elbows and his “lighthouse hands” ready, singing at the top of his voice with the rest of us.

To find out more about EDSD’s Vacation Bible School Program, contact Charlette Preslar, Director of Formation, at cpreslar@edsd.org