Education for Ministry (EfM) is an individual spiritual journey taken in a group setting. It’s a unique program that gives you the space to ask spiritual questions—deep, personal, even challenging ones. In EfM, you are not expected to have all the answers. You are simply asked to show up, stay curious, and be open to where God may be leading you.

We are all on a faith journey. For me, EfM provided an exceptional roadmap. It guided me through the Old Testament, New Testament, church history, and spiritual living. Each year offered new insights, but it wasn’t just the content that shaped me—it was the community. The group setting was particularly enjoyable because of the rich diversity of perspectives. Each person brought their own background, beliefs, and experiences, and together we explored what it means to live faithfully in the world.

The most significant impact EfM had on me was in the area of vocation. I had always understood vocation to mean what a person does for a living—a career focused on advancement, success, and money. I believed that my self-worth was tied to my financial net worth. But I was wrong.

EfM challenged that idea and gently, powerfully, reoriented my understanding. Vocation, I learned, is God’s calling to do God’s work in the world. That shift in perspective helped me explain the deep gnawing that had followed me most of my life. It gave language to a longing I didn’t fully understand until I encountered it in the stories and conversations of EfM. I came to realize that you don’t have to be a minister to minister. You don’t have to wear a collar to serve. Ministry is about how we live, how we treat others, and how we reflect God’s love in everyday interactions. It’s about recognizing the sacred in each person and responding with compassion and grace.

EfM is a four-year program, and yes, that’s a commitment. There is a lot to read, discuss, and digest. But upon completing it, I’ve realized something even more profound: there is still so much more to learn, more to wrestle with, more to reflect on. The journey of faith doesn’t end—it deepens and expands.

I encourage you to explore EfM if you have big questions about scripture, theology, history, or your place in God’s story. EfM provides a safe, nonjudgmental, open forum for those seeking clarity, connection, and communication for a deeper sense of purpose. Ask the questions. Join the conversation.

For the interested or just curious, visit the EfM website, where you’ll find lots of information, including sample lessons, at https://theology.sewanee.edu/education-for-ministry. You can also email our EfM Diocesan Coordinator, Mark Patzman at efm.edsd@outlook.com.

Have you ever felt overwhelmed by politics? As Christians, our faith can anchor our hope and reinforce our resilience. If you’re looking for a way to dispel despair and channel your values, the Episcopal Church can light the way.

The Episcopal Church advocates for its public policy priorities to the U.S. government through its Office of Government Relations (OGR) and the Episcopal Public Policy Network. These organizations work in tandem to influence policy and legislation on critical issues and positions based on General Convention and Executive Council resolutions that align with our values as Episcopalians and Christians. 

We engage in advocacy because federal government legislation and policies affect Episcopalians, our brother and sister Anglicans around the world, and the most vulnerable among us. 

Policy areas where the Church advocates include: 

Creation Care – As we are called by God to care for creation, The Episcopal Church supports policies that protect the natural resources that sustain all life on Earth. We advocate for policies that mitigate greenhouse gas emissions, promote sustainable energy and the safe and just use of natural resources, and support communities impacted by a lack of environmental stewardship.

Racial Reconciliation – Racial reconciliation is a core component of our work, guiding and informing advocacy engagement. The Office challenges long-established policies that perpetuate systemic racism and injustice and strives to change legislation that continues to harm communities of color. The Episcopal Church aims to bring a perspective of transformation to public policy in order to heal communities that have been the most marginalized and discriminated against.

Ending Poverty – We advocate for policies that will eliminate poverty and help people live with dignity, both in the U.S. and internationally. We advocate for federal programs that provide development assistance and humanitarian relief, including education and healthcare initiatives, as well as support for social safety net programs, care for veterans, and other U.S.-focused anti-poverty initiatives.

Migration, Refugees & Immigration – As a Church, we are committed to advocating for policies that respect the dignity and worth of every human being- including protecting asylum, advocating for Dreamers & TPS holders, advocating for alternatives to detention, and urging long-term protections through comprehensive immigration reform. We work to protect the human rights and safety of refugees by supporting the refugee resettlement work of Episcopal Migration Ministries and advocating for robust refugee resettlement policies.

Human Rights & Peacebuilding – The Church supports legislation and policies that protect human rights and prevent atrocities, promote gender justice, and build peace. We partner with non-U.S. Episcopal dioceses and provinces throughout the Anglican Communion to work towards justice.

You can advocate for Episcopal values by signing up for Action Alerts, where you’ll get real-time opportunities to easily contact your representatives to advocate for relevant and important legislation.

The faithful people of St. Columba’s, Santee, gathered together on May 4, 2025, for one last Holy Eucharist. They were joined by familiar faces – members, friends, clergy, and visitors from neighboring congregations.

The Rev. Canon Gwynn Lynch, Canon to the Ordinary, preached and presided over the service. Throughout worship, there were tears and sniffles–balanced by smiles, shared memories, and bursts of laughter. The sanctuary, though preparing to close, was alive with love.

Months earlier, the leadership of St. Columba’s had approached Bishop Susan Brown Snook with a prayerful and difficult realization: they no longer had the energy or numbers to sustain the active ministry required to keep the church vibrant. The decision did not come easily. It came through discernment—a holy, honest process of looking deeply at what was possible, and what was no longer sustainable.

The Rev. Anne Cox Bailey, who over the last three years had been serving once a month as a supply priest, said, “They were honest with themselves. What a brave witness.”

Rev. Anne offered a reminder that endings are part of the Christian story. “Everything in the Bible starts with something ending,” she said, “Even Genesis doesn’t start from nothing—it begins with chaos. And out of that ending, creation begins.”

A sense of holy transition–of ending as beginning–echoed throughout the final service. The congregation was joined by guests from across the Episcopal Diocese of San Diego, including members from St. Dunstan’s in San Diego, Grace in San Marcos, St. Peter’s in Del Mar, Resurrection in Ocean Beach, St. Mark’s in City Heights, and Good Shepherd in Bonita. Their presence reminded the gathered that the church is not a building, but a community, and that no parishioner or congregation walks alone in this diocese.

St. Columba’s began in 1988, planted by the Rev. Boone Sadler, under the direction of Bishop Brinkley Morton. They met first at the neighboring Carlton Hills Lutheran Church until they moved into the building on Cuyamaca Street in 1997. For over three decades, the congregation offered worship, fellowship, and service to the Santee community. Like many churches, it saw seasons of growth and change, joys and struggles. But through it all, the people of St. Columba’s remained faithful to their calling: to love God and serve their neighbors.

It’s important to note that churches don’t close on their own. Canonically, a congregation must consult with the bishop to discern such a significant step. The leadership of St. Columba’s did just that. They did not walk away—they walked forward. With humility and faith, they asked for guidance. And in response, Bishop Susan and the diocesan staff accompanied them every step of the way.

Evangelism, as we know, takes energy. It takes commitment, time, creativity, and spiritual resilience. It asks us to show up over and over again. The congregation at St. Columba’s recognized that they had given all they could give. Rather than trying to carry a burden that had become too heavy, they chose to bless the past and open the door to whatever God might be preparing next.

Rev. Anne reminded me after the service, “Because we’re resurrection people, we start anew.” Those words captured the heart of that moment. The service was not a funeral. It was a resurrection—an honoring of the ministry that had been and a faithful release into whatever comes next.

The closing of a church is never easy. It stirs grief, nostalgia, and questions. But it can also be an act of courageous love. The people of St. Columba’s modeled that love in their decision, their worship, and their witness.

And now, we pause to give thanks. For the baptisms that took place here. For the marriages blessed. For the children raised, the vestries who led, and the potlucks that nourished more than just bodies. We give thanks for the faithful ministry of lay leaders, clergy, and every person who ever walked through the doors of St. Columba’s.

At the core of our faith is the call to love our neighbors and care for the vulnerable, especially children. Jesus placed children at the center of his ministry, saying, “Let the little children come to me…” (Matthew 19:14). St. John’s Episcopal Church in Chula Vista has embraced that calling. And this year’s Día de los Niños celebration on April 30 was a wonderful expression of that care in action.

More than 160 students, their siblings, and parents gathered on the St. John’s campus–home to one of the region’s Episcopal Community Services (ECS) Head Start programs–for a joyous, carnival-style event. It buzzed with music, snacks, games, stickers, and face painting. But embedded into the celebration was a deeper truth: a church community living into its mission, even as the program it supports now faces a critical threat.

Head Start, a federally funded early childhood education program, is at risk of being cut from the national budget. If Congress fails to protect this vital funding, thousands of children—including those at St. John’s–will lose access to education, food, healthcare, and emotional support during their most formative years.

“Education has always been important at St. John’s,” said the Rev. Roger Haenke, rector of the parish. “The partnership with ECS for Head Start has helped with our mission of presence in the community. Opening our doors and welcoming all people is an important mission of St. John’s.”

St. John’s once hosted a K-7 school on its campus. Today, those same classrooms are filled with the voices of preschoolers receiving a quality education through ECS Head Start. And through this partnership, the church remains a vital sanctuary–spiritually and practically–for families seeking a strong start for their children.

“This is outreach,” said Jeff Bates, Jr. Warden at St. John’s. “ECS is our partner, and we’re happy to support the kids and their well-being. Having a carnival is our way of doing that.”

By opening its campus to ECS Head Start, St. John’s is extending care to the youngest and most vulnerable members of the local community. This partnership is a natural extension of the Church’s mission: to nurture, to educate, and to build a more just society. And, with growing evidence that early childhood education is one of the most effective ways to ensure long-term success for children and their families, St. John’s is building a better future. 

Extensive research shows the profound impact of early childhood education.

• Children who attend Head Start are 2.7% more likely to finish high school, 8.5% more likely to enroll in college, and 39% more likely to complete college (Garces, Thomas & Currie, 2002; Deming, 2009; National Bureau of Economic Research, 2021).
• Adults who participated in Head Start as children are 23% less likely to live in poverty and 27% less likely to rely on public assistance than non-participants (NBER Digest, April 2021).
• Long-term studies show that early education leads to better health outcomes and reduced interaction with the criminal justice system over a lifetime (Heckman, 2010; Campbell et al., 2014).
• Participation in Head Start has been shown to improve executive function, social-emotional skills, and behavioral regulation—critical predictors of success in school and life (Brookings Institution, 2017; Office of Planning, Research, and Evaluation, 2020).

“This is an incredible program that allows our children to get ahead,” said John McCann, Mayor of Chula Vista, during the celebration.

Rosa Cabrera-Jamie, ECS Director of Early Education and Family Services, emphasized the daily realities that Head Start makes possible: “Families rely on Head Start,” she said. “It allows families to work, finish college, or pursue other education. Without it, many would be forced to make impossible choices between caregiving and stability.”

“These programs are not just about early learning,” said Elizabeth Fitzsimons, CEO of Episcopal Community Services. “Head Start is an opportunity for families that are living on the edge to find stability. ECS Head Start is a positive intervention that can change the course of a child’s life.”

The loss of federal Head Start funding would devastate more than just classrooms. ECS employs more than 300 teachers and support staff through Head Start. A funding cut would jeopardize these jobs, reduce income for program sites like St. John’s that receive rent, and harm dozens of small vendors who provide food, supplies, and services.

“There is a real economic ecosystem built around these programs,” Fitzsimons said. “Now is the time for us to step up and wrap our arms around these families. Your voice is helping us keep this important program open.”

Without this critical funding, children could lose accessible, affordable learning environments. Parents might be forced to leave their jobs to care for children. Teachers would be laid off. Community partnerships would dissolve. The long-term cost of losing Head Start far exceeds the short-term savings.

The spirit of Día de los Niños–the celebration of every child’s dignity and promise–must now inspire our advocacy. This is when our voice is needed. We are called to protect the vulnerable, build up families, and challenge choices that cause harm.

Contact your representatives in Congress and ask them to protect Head Start funding in the federal budget. Let them know that communities like Chula Vista–and churches like St. John’s–are making a tangible difference through this program. Cutting Head Start would not only fail our children; it would abandon the very principles of justice, compassion, and care that our Church strives to uphold.

“This is what the Church is called to do,” said Rev. Haenke. “To stand with our neighbors, support families, and make our love for Christ visible in action.”

Take action now! Visit: https://nhsa.org/take-action/. 

Every area of my life has been profoundly affected by my studies in Education for Ministry (EFM) because, through rigorous study,  EFM enabled me to blend, or integrate my mind into my heart–or what I most hoped for in my heart with what I intellectually believed to be true. Before EFM, I  had serious doubts about the validity of scripture–and, therein was the disconnect between what I thought and what my heart hoped for. Through study and reflection, I came to realize our God is very much present in all of our lives–as he always has been and always will be. Through the studies of the first year and Hebrew Scriptures, I looked past the stories I learned as a child and instead came to see the history of humanity, however flawed, was not the entire story. While humanity’s history is indeed often filled with horrendous atrocities, God is not, and, in fact, has been calling out to all of us since time began. My problems centered around the failings of people–not God.

Through EFM–and lots of reading, I began to change my perceptions of who God was and is in all of our lives, and this critical lens has changed everything as I now see and feel God everywhere and see my part in creating a world reflecting his ever-present love. 

Along with this metacognitive shift of who God is, I have also been tremendously blessed to interact with the wonderful individuals of my EFM group, and I am most decidedly happy to call them my friends. Through the wise mentoring of Mark Patzman, Debbie Kistler, and Susan Jester, I have new templates and role models of what it means to lead through love and wisdom, and I will always be eternally grateful.

My colleagues in the cohort shared with me the good work–and, I think we bonded because of the rigor–we are in the metaphorical trenches of biblical study as we navigate through intense reading. Our meetings are filled with laughter, love, and incredible food as we share our studies with the group and relief as we once again, each Tuesday, complete our assignments. Life for me has turned into a before Tuesday–so much to do–and after Tuesday: I did it! I know each member in a way I never would have otherwise, specifically because of EFM, and I don’t even want to think of a time when we are not all together on Tuesday evenings.

For the interested or just curious, visit the EfM website, where you’ll find lots of information, including sample lessons, at https://theology.sewanee.edu/education-for-ministry. You can also email our EfM Diocesan Coordinator, Mark Patzman at efm.edsd@outlook.com.

I have spent my entire life in the Episcopal Church, and I’ve spent my entire professional career working for a Diocese in the Episcopal Church. But for most of it, I haven’t felt entirely at home at church on Sunday. 

My formative, teenage years were spent at All Saints’ Episcopal Church in Beverly Hills, where my mother served as Associate for Pastoral Care in the 1990s. Our youth group was comprised almost entirely of staff kids. Most of us were in the chorister program. And all of us participated in exploring our faith through questioning, teasing our youth leader, and authentic participation in worship. 

Church wasn’t something we did—it was something we were. It was family, comfort, and belonging. All Saints’, Beverly Hills, left a deep mark on my faith. It shaped my understanding of God, community, and myself. It also set a high bar for what “church” should be–a place where you can breathe deeply, be fully yourself, and know without question that you were home.

But, like many young adults, I found it challenging to continue attending church throughout college–I was busy exploring life. My 20-something lifestyle was just too packed to dedicate the time to church. I felt that as I got older, I would have more time for church. But that didn’t exactly come true. 

After graduating from college, I began working for the Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles. As I stepped deeper into the life of the Church through my career, my personal connection to a specific church became more elusive. Sunday morning felt more and more like another day of work. 

I have lived and breathed the structures, systems, and services of the Church. I love it deeply. And yet, for over 20 years, I’ve struggled to find a church that felt right for me. Even though I regularly spent Sundays in a church building. 

This was an ache I didn’t talk much about—the ache of being in the middle of the Church’s life and yet feeling oddly churchless inside it. I thought, “Maybe this is just how working for a Diocese is. Maybe personal church experience is a sacrifice I have to make for the privilege of serving professionally.”

And then Resurrection Ocean Beach happened.

When Bishop Susan shared her desire to have a church plant in Ocean Beach—the quirky, vibrant San Diego neighborhood known for its independent spirit—I knew immediately I wanted to be part of it. Not as a staff person. Not as a consultant. But as a human seeking something I hadn’t felt in a long time: a church called home.

Resurrection is lay-led and intentionally flexible. Under the guidance of Canon Jason Evans, Ministry Council Chair at Resurrection Ocean Beach, we’ve gathered every Sunday since Pentecost (2024) in our plant-filled church on Sunset Cliffs Blvd., often with a visiting priest to celebrate Eucharist. The rest— welcoming, praying, preaching, building community—is on us, the people. And I love that.

There’s something awesome about a church community guided by the hands and hearts of the people themselves. Leadership isn’t always prescribed—sometimes it emerges from the gifts, creativity, and passion of each person who gathers. Our shared responsibility brings a powerful sense of ownership and investment; we aren’t passive recipients of church life but active creators of it. It invites everyone to step forward, contribute, and experience spiritual growth in new and unexpected ways. Resurrection is thriving on the collective wisdom, humility, and faith of ordinary people living into discipleship together.

Being part of a church plant like Resurrection has been one of the most liberating spiritual experiences of my life. We are free to listen to the Spirit; to try; to fail; to try again. To respond to the spiritual heart of Ocean Beach with Christ at the center.

I realized early on that Resurrection wasn’t just giving me a new church—it was reminding me of an authentic way of being Church. A reminder that Church isn’t meant to be a place where we perform faith correctly—it’s meant to be a place where we practice faith together.

And I know I’m not alone. A fellow parishioner, who recently lost his wife, confided that he had struggled to feel comfortable in church for nearly 30 years. He looked me in the eye and said, “I’m so grateful for this,” looking up at the church building, “…this place is helping.”

After her first time celebrating Eucharist at Resurrection, The Rev. Cathey Dowdle turned to me with a beaming smile and said, “That was really fun!”

Every week, we welcome new faces—neighbors rediscovering church, some after decades of being away. In an era where many church communities anxiously wonder what the future holds, the story of Resurrection Episcopal Church is a powerful reminder that the Episcopal Church is far from finished. The newest church in the Episcopal Diocese of San Diego, Resurrection Ocean Beach, is thriving and sharing the Good News of Jesus Christ with the world in an inspiring way.

On Good Friday 2025, Resurrection hosted the final station in the neighborhood’s Stations of the Cross pilgrimage—“Jesus is laid in the tomb.” I watched nearly 200 people enter our little sanctuary throughout the afternoon, sitting, praying, weeping, hoping. (It is likely the most people to enter the church in over a decade.) Two days later, on Easter Sunday, we welcomed nearly double Resurrection’s regular weekly attendance. 

The transformation I’ve found at Resurrection is simple, but profound: I have a church again. Not because my professional experience or professional proximity to the Bishop disappeared. Not because all the tensions magically resolved. But because at Resurrection OB, I can simply be.

For the first time in decades, Sunday doesn’t feel like work. It feels like Sabbath. It feels like worship, service, and community. It feels like home.

If you are interested in supporting the work of the Episcopal Diocese of San Diego, like planting new churches, click here. To find out more about Resurrection Ocean Beach, visit resurrectionob.org or join us at 10 a.m. on any Sunday.

Easter arrives every year with Alleluias, beautiful music, flowers, bright lights, new clothes. But the first Easter began in darkness – the darkness of a pre-dawn morning, as grieving women slipped through dark streets to the tomb of their beloved rabbi. They had been so optimistic when Jesus was alive, so sure that everything would go right for him, so certain that he would lead his disciples to form a new kingdom of God that would help the poor and heal the sick and throw off the oppressors and bring justice to all – but it seems that all those hopes have died with him. So now they are doing one last thing, a sensible thing, a loving thing, looking for the dead among the dead, knowing that not only their beloved Lord, but also their cherished dream of God’s kingdom, on earth as it is in heaven, has died.

Picture them slipping through dark streets to the tomb, hoping to find some last shreds of their broken lives, some memory, some courage to face the future; arriving to be disappointed, because Jesus was not just dead – he was dead & GONE. Despairing at finding strange emptiness where they expected to find familiar death. Turning to find two men in dazzling clothes standing there, and freezing, terrified. As the angels opened their mouths to speak, they heard the angels’ words – Why do you look for the living among the dead? But what they couldn’t hear was all the angels in heaven singing, shouting, dancing, for joy.

But as the angels say the word – “remember” – and as they remind the women of Jesus’ promise that he would suffer and die, but that God would raise him from dead, something new dawns in their hearts – something born in darkness, a light when all light has failed. Hope that all is not lost, that God’s kingdom will dawn in a new way, beyond all human hopes, a way that can only mean new life for all creation. And only then, only then, Easter dawns on the women at the tomb.

This year, there’s big part of me that feels like I’m waiting in the darkness of a pre-dawn morning. In our world, we are divided and afraid. Ordinary people feel unsafe going to churches and schools and hospitals. Every day there is new and disturbing news. The economy may be heading toward crisis, scientific research is being cut, the judicial system is under threat. Many people live in fear and anxiety; people are excluded, reviled; all kinds of people are living lives of insecurity; people fear the loss of freedoms they have long worked and prayed for. So joyful shouts and bright lights at Easter might feel a bit incongruous this year.

But it helps to remember that Easter is not just about joy. Easter is about joy inexplicably arising out of sorrow; life unbelievably arising out of death. Jesus lived in a time of suffering too. Poverty, suffering, and oppression were widespread in his time. People lived in terror of the Roman occupiers, who were very skilled at brutality, very practiced at oppression. The story of Jesus’s last week of life in Jerusalem is a sad, disturbing drama of plots against his life, danger to his disciples, his arrest by the Roman police, his sham of a trial, his condemnation despite his innocence, his brutal crucifixion, suffering, and death. A story like Jesus’s last week seems to indicate that all the things we fear have the final word. The powers of evil have won. The book has ended. It’s a tragedy.

But … but … but … take a look at how the gospel of Luke tells the story of Easter. There is one word peppered throughout the story that once you see it, it catches your attention and won’t let go. It comes right after the sweet, sad Good Friday story of laying Jesus in the tomb. And it begins with the word “But.”

But! Easter begins with that one little word. And 6 times during this passage, Luke repeats it. BUT on the first day of the week! BUT they did not find the body! BUT the men said to them, why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, BUT he has risen! BUT these words seemed to the men like an idle tale, BUT Peter ran to the tomb and found it empty.

But! But! But! It’s just as if Easter is God’s gigantic BUT to all the suffering, evil, and death in the world. It’s as if God took a look at our whole sad human situation and said BUT! It’s like, Luke tells us this whole sad story of betrayal, denial, crucifixion – tells us about the thief on the cross who will be with Jesus in Paradise, tells us about Jesus forgiving the ones who are torturing him, tells us that despite all his goodness and his forgiveness and his preaching about the kingdom of God, still Jesus died.

But … but … death does not have the final word, the final word belongs to God, and God’s defiant word to death is a giant “but!” BUT – we haven’t heard the whole story yet. BUT it’s time to turn around and hear what God does next. BUT this is not a time for hopelessness, this is a time for action. BUT it is time for the disciples to gather up their courage and share a new story with the world.

To any kind of hopeless human certainty that darkness and death have the final word to say in our lives – God has a new word to say:  but – but –

but on the first day of the week, a new hope will dawn, life will arise out of death, and all the cold, dead places where we have stored away our hopes, all the cemeteries where we go to look for the dead among the dead, all the dried-up places where we have wept until we can’t weep any more, all the places where we huddle in fear of the forces of suffering and exclusion, injustice and death – suddenly those places will be healed, empty, and we will be sent out of the tomb to search for the living among the living and practice resurrection lives of courage and hope – and there’s nothing to say to that BUT Alleluia! Christ is risen!

What Luke wants to tell us, what we need to understand from the resurrection, is that what happened to that one man, long ago, on that first Easter, means far more than just a surprise happy ending to a sad story; more than the fact that someone we loved long ago is not dead but alive; more even than the fact that God promises us eternal life through Jesus. All those things are true, but … resurrection changes our lives, it changes you, and me, and the world into something new. Which means that when all is dark in our lives, when there is no more room for optimism, when we know that our dreams and plans have died, God says BUT the risen Christ can reach into our dark world and bring us hope.

To all the worries that fill our hearts, to all the things that keep us awake and weeping in the middle of the night, to the injustice in this world, to all the things that leave us feeling powerless and fearful, God says, BUT … But God is the God of life, and God’s light and hope extends even into the darkest and most hopeless places, even into the tomb itself. And the place to search for life, hope, resurrection, God’s new creation is not among the dead but among the living, right here in our world today, right now with you and me.

The first disciples, once they got over their doubts, were transformed into some of the most courageous people the world has ever seen, giving their lives to share God’s new message of life and hope. Resurrection changed them. It can change us too. As with the first disciples, God’s gigantic BUT calls us to courageous, loving action. We too can make a difference in this hurting world. We can feed the hungry, care for the homeless, visit the sick and prisoners; we can build affordable housing for the homeless (as our diocese is hoping to do at several congregations, beginning with St. Luke’s in North Park), we can create shelter and new life for migrants (as we are doing for migrants who want to begin a new life in Tijuana), we can advocate for the vulnerable and work for justice and inclusion. We can go into the world and proclaim the gospel of love, joy, and peace against the false gospel of exclusion, rejection, arrogance, oppression.

Jesus Christ is alive, God’s love is alive, and God gives us courage. Because we are people of hope. We are people of resurrection. We are people of Easter.

American Christian writer Jim Wallis, in his book God’s Politics, tells a story of hope that took place in South Africa in the apartheid era. Wallis was at the Cathedral of St. George’s in Capetown where Anglican Archbishop Desmond Tutu was presiding, when a group of the notorious South African Security Police broke in. Wallis writes:

Tutu stopped preaching and just looked at the intruders as they lined the walls of his cathedral, wielding writing pads and tape recorders. … Tutu reminded them that he served a higher power than theirs…. Then, in the most extraordinary challenge to … tyranny I have ever witnessed, Archbishop Desmond Tutu told the representatives of South African Apartheid, “Since you have already lost, I invite you today to come and join the winning side!” He said it with a smile on his face and an enticing warmth in his invitation, but with a clarity and a boldness that took everyone’s breath away. The congregation’s response was electric. The crowd was literally transformed by the bishop’s challenge to power. From a cowering fear of the heavily armed security forces that surrounded the cathedral and greatly outnumbered the band of worshippers, we literally leaped to our feet, shouted the praises of God and began dancing. We danced out of the cathedral to meet the awaiting police and military forces who not knowing what else to do, backed up to provide the space for the people of faith to dance for freedom.” (Jim Wallis, God’s Politics: Why the Right Gets It Wrong and the Left Doesn’t Get It: HarperSanFrancisco, 2005.)

Today, my friends, is the day we dance for freedom. Today is the day we hear God’s song of hope, sung into all our places of despair, God’s gigantic “but” to all the fear and hopelessness in our lives. Today is the day we acknowledge that Good Friday is not the end of Christ’s story and it is not the end of our story either. The powers of this world want to hold us imprisoned and hopeless, but they have lost already. Our God is the God of life and hope and peace, love and joy and invitation. And today is the day Jesus Christ, with arms held wide, invites us to come and dance with him in the joy and hope of Easter.

Christ has risen from the dead, and Christ invites us to join him in resurrection life. So with resurrection strength, courage, and the sheer hope of Christ, we say Alleluia! Christ is risen!

Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love’s sake. Amen.

This compline prayer was the inspiration for the annual youth retreat. How do we end our days and start our rest at the close of each day? We can all name the things we do in the morning to insure we start our day preparing for success—eat a good breakfast, make our beds, pack our bags with the right materials—but the evenings, when we are tired, we often don’t have the same regimens for a successful night. Further, what do we keep watch over? Keeping watch over the things that we care about or the things that are heavy in our lives is a 24/7 job. We are often unable or unsure how to rest from this watch. Compline offers a time for stillness, a time to give the things we keep watch over so carefully to God, and receive the peace needed for successful rest.

Youth from all over the diocese came together for a weekend of fun, fellowship. Sixty-two youth and thirteen chaperones, from 14 churches met at Camp Stevens over the long Presidents Day weekend, a new date for the annual Epiphany camp. During the days, the weekend took middle school and high school youth to the climbing wall, ropes course, on a goat hike, and a compost service project for camp. The nights were filled with small group time, community gatherings, smores, glowstick folk dancing, games and compline services.

During the time together, we learned the art of an Examen—a prayer of reflection and discernment of God’s presence —as well as the practice of a prayer labyrinth. Sunday night’s compline service brought six prayer stations, derived from the Keep Watch prayer, allowing space for reflection and deeper connection to God.

Lamenting Prayer Wall -those who work, or watch, or weep

Make your own Anointing Oils –soothe the suffering

Breath Prayers/yoga movement –rest to the weary

Votive Candle Vigil –bless the dying

Pompom Making– shield the joyous

Get Well Cards –tend the sick

Monday morning marked the end of the retreat, beginning with the optional sunrise hike—with over half the youth participating—and concluding with a large group gathering. At this closing, we reflected on our time together and prayed the four compline prayers written by the groups during their weekend time around the labyrinth.

Keep watch, Dear Jesus, for those who need guidance, those in need, those who are sick, and those who are homeless. Prayers for good health, support for immigrants, and food for the hungry. Amen.

Keep watch, over those who call on your name, and those who we love, the San Diego Padres, the Green Bay Packers, the bugs, trees, the sick, the mourning, and the vulnerable. Help us to do your will in all things, in all ways, to the glory of your name. Amen.

Dear God, we pray for good health for all your people, and your creation. Lord, grant us joy and protect it day and night. Thanks be to God. In Jesus’s name we pray. Amen.

Dear Lord, I am thankful for my family and God, please protect them. Keep watch over family as they sleep, keep people in danger safe and people who are sick, make them well. Fill the stomachs of the hungry, Lord, and unite your people in love. Give protection and health to those who need it, deserve it, and are without it. Give prosperity and protection to all dangerous situations. Protect and watch over those who are unhoused and lonely. Give protection to those who have lost their homes. Grant good health to those who are sick. Give protection to the people with no homes and the people losing family to ICE. Lord, give the suffering relief and pleasure. Feed those in need. Thank you for life. Amen.

How do you end your day? What things do you keep watch of in your life? These are questions we continue to ask ourselves in our daily reflections. Now, after the retreat, we have the tools to nurture a new way of finding rest—the words of compline, examen practices, our written compline prayers, and each other. Join us in finding rest, too.

To find out more about Youth and Formation opportunities in the Episcopal Diocese of San Diego, visit edsd.org/formation

At St. Mary’s in Ramona, we are thrilled to announce the selection of Ray Swavely–the first-ever Youth Director for the Ramona Youth Collaborative. This moment marks the launch of an exciting new chapter for youth ministry in Ramona, built on years of relationship, shared vision, and deep collaboration between four local churches.

The Ramona Youth Collaborative is a joint ministry effort of St. Mary’s Episcopal Church, Spirit of Joy Lutheran Church, Ramona United Methodist Church, and First Congregational Church of Ramona (UCC). Led by Pastors Kristie Grimaud, Wes Ellis, Lawrence Hand, and myself, this ecumenical partnership has grown organically over time through shared worship services, community events, and now, a united commitment to nurturing youth in a progressive, inclusive environment.

We began dreaming of this role more than a year ago, recognizing that none of our churches alone had the resources to support a robust youth ministry—but together, we could. Through joint grant writing, shared fundraising, and the hard work of drafting bylaws, forming a governing board, and listening carefully to the needs of our young people, the vision took shape. And now, it’s a reality.

We are especially grateful to the Episcopal Diocese of San Diego and Bishop Susan Brown Snook for awarding us a $24,000 Courageous Love Grant, which helped make this vision possible. This grant—funded by generous donors throughout the diocese—exists to support courageous, love-filled ministries that transform communities, strengthen congregations, and extend the reach of the Church. The Ramona Youth Collaborative is living into that vision, and we are deeply thankful for the support.

Ray Swavely brings over a decade of experience in youth ministry, both as a volunteer and paid staff person, most recently as Youth Director at La Mesa First United Methodist Church. Ray revitalized a struggling youth group there, growing it from just a couple of participants to a thriving community of 15 young people engaged in weekly programming, retreats, confirmation, and leadership development. He also brings extensive experience from Camp Cedar Glen, a beloved United Methodist camp where he has served as both counselor and support staff.

Ray’s philosophy is grounded in creating safe, brave, and welcoming spaces for young people to explore their faith, ask hard questions, and find belonging. As he puts it, “One of my greatest passions is giving youth and young adults space to understand themselves and their spiritual journey.” His heart for ecumenical connection—something he longed for more of within his own denomination—makes him a natural fit for this collaborative ministry.

We selected Ray not only for his experience but for his heart. He had instant rapport with the youth who participated in the interview process. His references spoke glowingly of his ability to connect across generations, his calm leadership, and his pastoral presence. Ray also happens to love off-roading and camping, which we think makes him a great fit for Ramona’s mountain-town vibe and adventurous spirit.

As one of the pastors involved in the Collaborative, I can say with joy and confidence: Ray is the right person at the right time. In a world where young people often feel isolated, judged, or unheard, it is more important than ever to create spaces where they are welcomed as they are and accompanied with care. Ray is someone who can shepherd this vision into reality.

We look forward to introducing Ray to our congregations and the wider community in the coming weeks. Please join us in praying for his ministry and for the youth of Ramona—that they might find in this new program a place to grow, belong, and experience God’s love more fully.

We’re just getting started—and the future is bright.

To support more ministries like the Ramona Youth Collaborative, click here. 

For more information or to get involved with the Ramona Youth Collaborative, visit stmarysramona.org.