In October, I traveled to the Pacific Northwest for my fourth and final in-person intensive as part of my Doctor of Ministry program at George Fox University. As I boarded the plane, I found myself thinking about you—your prayers, your encouragement, and the patience you’ve shown me throughout this long season of study. I have carried your support with deep gratitude.

Before our class began, two members of my cohort and I stole away to Ashford, Washington, to hike the Skyline Loop at Mount Rainier. Todd, a United Methodist pastor from Ohio, and Caleb, a Lutheran minister from Colorado, are brothers to me now—shaped by the same questions, hopes, and weariness that come with ministry. We set out before dawn with headlamps cutting through the darkness and spikes strapped to our boots to grip the six inches of early snow. The climb was steep, the air thin, and our conversations quiet and reflective. But when we reached Panorama Point, every aching muscle was forgotten. As the sun lifted, its first light spilled over the mountain, turning everything—snowfields, clouds, our own breath—into a kind of quiet glory. We brewed a pot of camp coffee and simply sat, letting beauty do the work only beauty can do.

The next day we made our way to Cannon Beach, Oregon, for our class on Global, Artistic, & Cultural Engagement. Under the wise guidance of Drs. MaryKate Morse and Ken Van Vliet, we spent the week wrestling with how Christian leaders navigate the complex cultural moment we inhabit. Our readings ranged from racism to technology, sexuality to disability—topics that do not allow for easy answers but do invite deeper faithfulness.

One session, led by Dr. Loren Kerns, traced how politics has slowly seeped into the marrow of American identity. He reminded us that words like conservative and liberal have shifted meanings countless times throughout our history. Building our identity on categories that shift like sand is a fragile endeavor. Discipleship, he argued, is helping people anchor their identity in Christ—who alone gives a meaning that doesn’t rise or fall with election cycles.

Another day we traveled inland to George Fox’s campus in Newberg, hearing from university leaders about the challenge of staying rooted in mission. We visited the new chapel, where the organ’s rich tones filled the room like a prayer. On our way back to the coast, we stopped at Eloheh Farm to learn from Cherokee theologian Randy Woodley, whose work in sustainable, indigenous agriculture carries the quiet conviction that caring for the earth is inseparable from caring for our neighbor.