 By John Hamer, Director of Outreach and Innovative Mission
The focal point of Community of Christ’s international headquarters complex in Independence, Missouri, is the Temple. Across Christian denominations, significant places of worship are commonly called cathedrals or basilicas. Very few use the designation “temple.” The primary exception is other denominations within the Latter Day Saint or Restoration movement, especially the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS church) headquartered on Temple Square in Salt Lake City, Utah. Temples have become ever more central to the LDS church, which has constructed hundreds of them around the world and is currently engaged in building dozens more. Entrance into LDS temples is restricted. Only fully committed church members who pay a “full tithe” (understood as 10% of their income) and pass other tests of “worthiness” are allowed inside. The interiors of LDS temples are set apart for temple rituals unique to the Mormon tradition, including proxy baptisms on behalf of the dead, the “sealing” of married couples and families in the afterlife, and the “endowment” ceremony, which is also seen as a preparation for the afterlife. Our own Temple in Independence is very different. It is open to everyone. There are no tests of fellowship to enter. It is the symbol of our mission initiative of “developing disciples” by fostering a culture of life-long learning. The Temple houses the library and archives of the church and our Center for Innovation in Ministry and Mission (CIMM). Most importantly, the Temple in Independence is dedicated to world peace, and our sole temple ritual is the prayer for peace. Though very different today, both the LDS and Community of Christ temple traditions ultimately spring from the same source. This was the longing of members in the 1830s to “restore” the practices of the earliest Christian community as described in the Book of Acts. Acts chapter 2, verse 46 says that “day by day” the first Christians in Jerusalem “spent much time together in the temple.” Having read this passage, members of the Restoration longed to restore the same experience by building a temple of their own in Kirtland, Ohio, the headquarters of the church in 1836. This vision of the earliest Christians sharing and worshiping together in the Jerusalem temple has continued to inform our understanding of the Temple in Community of Christ. The LDS understanding of temples changed when early members moved from the original goal of “restoring” the early Christian church to an expanded goal of “restoring all things,” including ideas and practices found in the Old Testament. According to the traditions recorded in the Hebrew Bible, the worship of the God of Israel was confined to a single location: the Jerusalem temple (and its predecessor, the tabernacle). It was in this single location that Aaronic priests and Levites ritually sacrificed offerings of animals and plants. And God’s presence was understood to dwell behind a veil or curtain within the temple’s innermost precinct, the Holy of Holies. No human was allowed to enter this sacred space, except the High Priest, who entered it on a single day, to offer a sacrifice that atoned for the entire people. While LDS temple practices did not revive animal sacrifice, Mormon temple rituals were believed to be based on rituals practiced in the Jerusalem temple at the time of Solomon. (In fact, the direct inspiration were rituals of contemporary Freemasonry, which were inaccurately thought to have great antiquity.) Besides the idea of temples found in the Old Testament and Acts, the Bible includes a third vision of the temple. The gospels tell the story that at the moment of Jesus’ death on the cross, the veil covering the Holy of Holies in Jerusalem was torn open—symbolizing the end of the idea that God’s presence was confined to a single, physical house. The universal God is present everywhere in the universe and can be worshiped everywhere. Christ himself served as the ultimate atoning sacrifice, ending ritual sacrifice at a physical temple. This third Biblical view of temples is found in the First Epistle of Peter. The author of First Peter names Christ, the living stone, as the cornerstone of a spiritual temple: Come to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight, and like living stones let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. (1 Peter 2:4–5) In this understanding, the meaning and imagery of the temple as “the house of the Lord” lives on for Christians—even as the physical temple in Jerusalem lost its function and was soon afterwards destroyed forever. Disciples who follow Christ’s example allow themselves to become the living stones of a temple that is spiritual rather than material. Thus, in the same way that God’s Church is not a building—it is the people—the true, living temple—the house in which the Lord’s Spirit can dwell—consists of all of us, everywhere, as we seek to embody Christ in the world and in our own communities.
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 By Vonda DenBoer, Director of Camping & Campground Sustainability Chuck had hoped to return to Erie Beach Reunion this year—a campground that held many cherished memories from his youth—but he didn't want to come alone. So he invited his friend, Tom, to join him with no expectations or strings attached. Tom accepted the invitation, expecting simply to relax in the sun, enjoy the beach, share meals, and spend time with his friend. When I arrived on Tuesday, I discovered Tom fully participating in the adult class and embracing the reunion experience. Later in the week, Mark, who was organizing the talent night, invited Tom to take part. Once again, Tom said yes. He wrote a poem and shared it with the community. Chuck said yes to extending an invitation. Mark said yes to creating another opportunity for participation. Tom said yes to stepping beyond what he had expected and trying something new. What a beautiful reminder of the power of invitation. A simple invitation can open the door to new experiences, new relationships, and unexpected moments of growth. It also takes courage to accept an invitation—to risk participating, to be vulnerable, and to share something of ourselves with others. With Tom's permission, I am delighted to share his poem with you. The Tapestry by Tom Daly God led me to a group this week. I am but a tiny bee, just a thread in the completion of the Erie Beach Reunion tapestry. I arrived without any expectation, only to enjoy the water, the food, and the sun. There will always be people to talk to; it would add up to a week of fun. I thought I'd be supportive and courageous, try something new, attend the Sunday service, practically in the front row pew. God jogged my memory, past experiences anew. I felt Community of Christ surrounding me. Then I felt all the peace and the love, renewed peace to accept my own presence, not like a stranger, unaccepted, but God's plan from above.  By Apostle Shannon McAdam Imagine a place where instead of being judged first, you are LOVED first. Imagine the risks you might be willing to take, the new things you'd try, the relationships you'd build if "Love First" was the rule that everyone lived by. "Love First" was the theme for the week-long youth camp for Community of Christ youth and their friends that I got to attend as staff from July 11–18, 2026. This was my second year as staff for this camp, and I again was amazed by what a supportive and kind community formed in such a short time. For my part, I offered a daily "Adventure Class" in embroidery where youth got to tell their story through a project unique to them. Thanks to lots of donated and thrifted materials, more than 40 campers made meaningful projects to take home with them. Campers of all genders attended, and most of them had never done embroidery before. We also made an altar cloth for the communion table as a group project. Most of my time, though, was spent cheering on youth, which I love doing. From applauding many a great volleyball rally to hyping up campers about to audition for the talent show, I got to recognize their hard work and encourage our young people to try new things. It was incredible to witness their willingness to step out of their comfort zones and meaningful to see them cheer one another on as well. More than 11 youth and two adult chaperones from Canada attended Spec this year with the Northwest delegation, who enthusiastically welcomed their Canadian siblings with open arms. Our Canadians did incredibly in a wide variety of activities, representing Canada very well. Many thanks go to the individuals, congregations, and the mission centre for financially supporting these folks to travel and experience the transformative Spec community. Next year will be extra special as youth from around the world will gather for three days before Spec at our Community of Christ Temple in Independence, Missouri, for the International Youth Forum (known as IYF). It will be the first time since Covid that IYF has taken place, and I am looking forward to seeing how even more youth from Canada and across our Aurora Belt field will be able to partake in loving, sacred, multi-cultural community. So think about youth in Grades 9–12 who you think would benefit from this transformative, inclusive experience, and let them know to put two dates on their calendar for 2027: July 7–9 for IYF, and July 10–17 for Spec. And think about what you might do to help them go, maybe volunteering your time and talents, or through financial generosity. Together let's make 2027 a memorable year for even more of our youth!  By Vonda DenBoer, Director of Camping & Campground Sustainability
I know that every moment we are given on this giant blue ball we live on is a God-given moment. Yet I also recognize certain moments that seem to reveal God's presence in a particularly powerful way. I call these God moments. At one camp, as someone was sharing a painful testimony about a difficult season in their life, K, who is autistic and can be loud and persistent, quietly moved beside the person and gently rested her head on their shoulder. In that simple, silent act, she expressed compassion and solidarity more profoundly than words ever could. I witnessed another person become emotional while sharing an experience. Without hesitation, someone else quietly crossed the room and placed a comforting hand on their shoulder, reminding them that they did not have to carry their burden alone. I learned of a father who mentioned to his best friend that he was bringing his child to camp. That simple conversation stirred memories of the friend's own camp experiences—memories filled with joy, belonging, and faith—and reminded him of the lasting impact camp had made on his life. I see God moments when a young person has the courage to say, "I don't think that's right," and an adult responds with humility by listening and changing course. I hear God in the enthusiasm of someone who comes to camp and is filled with such genuine joy that it becomes contagious, lifting the spirits of everyone around them. When wildfire smoke, unsafe water, mosquito infestations, or the unexpected cancellation of guest ministry threaten to disrupt camp, and people respond quickly, wisely, and collaboratively to care for one another, God is present in those moments too. God is revealed through courage, compassion, wisdom, and community. I invite you to watch for the God moments that surround you each day. They are often found in quiet acts of kindness, unexpected courage, gentle compassion, and faithful service. And don't just look for God moments—create them. As you respond with courage to the promptings of the Spirit, you become part of God's work in the world. Someone else's God moment may begin with your willingness to listen, care, encourage, or simply be present. May we pray that God will open our eyes to recognize these sacred moments and give us the courage to create them wherever we go.  By John Hamer, Director of Outreach & Innovative Mission
Community of Christ in Canada provides a number of resources for sharing invitation, including source files that can be printed as posters, framed pictures, or art on canvas. These include a set of images, representing our understanding of the church’s sacred inheritance: the Old Covenant, the New Covenant, and the Restored Covenant. The first is an image of Mt. Sinai with a quotation from Exodus 3:5: “The place where you’re standing is holy.” In the Exodus story, the God of Israel communes directly with Moses on the mountain sharing the name “I Am” — revealing God as divine being and the source of all being. The second image is the shore of the Sea of Galilee, with the simple words Mark 1:17: “Follow me.” In the gospels, Jesus walks along the shore, and seeing simple fishers, Simon-Peter, Andrew, and others, says “Follow me” — an invitation to embark on the path of the disciple. The third image represents the Sacred Grove in Palmyra, and shares the quotation from The Epistle of James 1:5: “If you lack wisdom, ask God.” Two centuries ago, a young spiritual seeker named Joseph Smith Jr., troubled by doubts, came across this verse, rendered in King James’ English: “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.” Taking this invitation seriously, he went into the woods near his home to pray. In later recollections, he remembered a spiritual experience that became known as his “First Vision” by members of the Restoration movement that grew up around him. Sinai, Galilee, Palmyra — Old Covenant, New Covenant, Restored Covenant. These stories of connecting with the divine have long been rich sources of inspiration, but they have also been abused when people have looked back and interpreted the individual experiences as sources of authority and then misused the stories to make authoritarian claims. By the 2nd century BC, the Torah had taken its final form, and tradition had imagined Moses as its author. When a Judean priest named Judas Maccabeus, outraged at the desecration of the Jerusalem Temple by King Antiochus IV, led a revolt — his family, the Maccabees or Hasmoneans, successfully established an independent Judean kingdom. Although short-lived, the Maccabean kings took the opportunity to conquer their neighbours, destroying the rival Samaritan temple. They also conquered the Idumeans to the south and the Galileans to the north. And using Moses as a source of authority, they forcibly converted these new subjects to Mosaic law. In the Christian era, Jesus’ calling of Simon bar Jonah has been used to make incredible claims to divine authority. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus renames Simon “Peter” (rocky) and says: “upon this rock I will build my church” (6:18). Tradition named Peter the first bishop of Rome, and later Roman bishops — considering themselves the heirs of Peter — developed claims to primacy over everything on earth. In the Restoration era, Joseph Smith's first vision led to the claim of the church he organized to be “the one and only true church on the face of the earth.” An exclusive claim to divine authority we originally maintained as the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and a claim that is still made by many other expressions of the Restoration, including the Utah-based Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. From our perspective in Community of Christ today, all three of these authoritarian interpretations of scripture miss the point of the stories themselves. In all three cases, God chooses an ordinary individual. Moses is “slow of speech and tongue” — not the most obvious candidate for God’s spokesperson. Simon-Peter is a simple fisherman, seemingly ill equipped to spread a gospel message in the culturally sophisticated Greco-Roman world. Joseph Smith was a farm boy from a poor, downwardly mobile family in the American countryside. The conclusion we should draw is that God is not focused on powerful leaders; God is available to the most humble. God’s revelation is available to everyone. That is the clear message in the scripture from The Epistle of James that inspired Joseph Smith to pray. It does not predict a chosen one will come in the latter days, to whom all authority will be given. It says “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.” God gives generously to all. Not to just one state or kingdom. Not to just one church. Not to just one leader. God gives generously to all. If you would like to make use of this set of three posters in your congregation or campground, you can download the source files here.  By Amy Rayfield, Camp Co-Director The July 3–5 weekend at Noronto Campgrounds was filled with laughter, friendship, faith, and countless colourful memories. We were blessed to welcome 15 wonderful campers, ages 6–13, and were supported by an incredible team of dedicated staff who poured their hearts into making the weekend a meaningful experience for every child. Our theme, "Colour the World Together," reminded us that each of us is unique and that our differences make our communities stronger, brighter, and more beautiful. During our theme classes, we explored how God created each person with special gifts, talents, and perspectives. Just as every colour has its own purpose in creating a masterpiece, every person has an important place in God's family. The campers embraced this message with open hearts, showing kindness, acceptance, and encouragement to one another throughout the weekend. There was no shortage of fun! From creative crafts that allowed everyone to express themselves to exciting water games that kept us cool and laughing, every activity brought smiles to our faces. We gathered around the campfire to sing songs, perform hilarious skits, and enjoy the special sense of community that only camp can create. We also shared delicious ice cream sundaes, juicy watermelon, and refreshing freezies—simple treats that made great memories even sweeter. One of the greatest joys of the weekend was watching friendships grow. Campers encouraged one another, stepped outside their comfort zones, and celebrated each other's uniqueness. Whether singing together, creating artwork, playing games, or simply sharing conversations, we truly experienced what it means to colour the world together. A heartfelt thank you goes to our amazing staff, whose enthusiasm, patience, creativity, and love made this weekend possible. Their dedication created a safe, welcoming environment where every camper felt valued and included. As we head home, we carry with us not only colourful crafts, tie-dyed shirts, and happy memories, but also the reminder that our world becomes brighter when we celebrate our differences, share our gifts, and choose kindness every day. We hope each camper leaves knowing they are an important part of God's beautiful masterpiece and that together, we can continue to colour the world with love, compassion, and joy.  By Troy Roach, Midland, ON
I have always loved food. That love started with my mom, who introduced our family to all kinds of flavours and foods from around the world, especially Caribbean and Jamaican cooking. Later, while I was in university, I worked in restaurants as a short-order cook, broiler chef, and food service worker. I enjoyed learning techniques, trying new recipes, and discovering how food could bring people together. But cooking didn't become a ministry for me until much later. When I discovered Community of Christ about twenty years ago, one of the congregation members was a professional chef and culinary instructor. He generously shared his knowledge while leading church breakfasts, catering events, and fundraisers. My wife Melissa and I often volunteered alongside him in the kitchen. Those experiences taught me much more than how to cook. They taught me that food is one of the most tangible ways we can tell people they matter. As I worked alongside members of the congregation, I became aware of people living with food allergies and dietary restrictions. Some couldn't eat gluten. Others couldn't eat dairy, pork, or certain ingredients. I noticed that many of them often felt overlooked at meals and gatherings. Sometimes there was little or nothing available for them to eat. That never sat well with me. One of Community of Christ's Enduring Principles is the Worth of All Persons. For me, that principle found its way into the kitchen. If we truly believe every person is of worth and value, then everyone should be welcomed at the table. Everyone should be considered. Everyone should have something prepared with them in mind. Over time, Melissa and I were invited to help cook at camps. One camp became two. Two became three. Before long, there were years when we were helping with five or six camps in a single season. What kept bringing us back wasn't the cooking itself. It was the people. Campers, staff, and volunteers would stop by the kitchen just to chat. People would tell us how much a meal meant to them. They would come through the serving line with smiles and gratitude. Some would seek us out years later with hugs and stories they remembered. Again and again, people would tell us they could taste the love that had gone into the food. Those moments reminded me that camp cooking isn't really about food. Food is simply the vehicle. The ministry is making people feel seen. Several years ago, I became a plant-based eater myself. Suddenly, I experienced some of the same challenges that many people with dietary restrictions face every day. I understood firsthand what it felt like to arrive somewhere wondering if there would be anything I could eat. That experience deepened my commitment. As more people began requesting vegetarian, vegan, gluten-free, and allergy-friendly options, I found myself stepping into that role. While many camp kitchens were doing their best, special diets often felt like an afterthought simply because few people knew how to prepare those meals. For me, this became another expression of ministry. I never wanted anyone arriving at camp to feel forgotten, excluded, or like a burden. Instead, I wanted them to arrive with confidence. I wanted them to know someone had thought about them before they ever walked through the dining hall doors. I wanted them to feel welcomed. One of the greatest joys now is watching people discover they don't have to worry. The stress leaves their shoulders. They stop wondering what they'll be able to eat. Instead, they begin looking forward to meals with excitement and anticipation. I start hearing questions like, "What's for supper tonight?" "What did you make for dessert?" and "I can't wait to see what you've come up with." Those questions always make me smile. Over the years, I've also had the privilege of watching younger campers wander into the kitchen wanting to help. They peel potatoes, stir sauces, ask questions, taste recipes, and learn alongside us. I've always hoped that some of them might discover the same joy in serving others that I have found. Because at its heart, camp cooking isn't really about cooking. It's about service. It's about hospitality. It's about creating a space where people feel cared for. It's about making sure nobody is forgotten. When I think about why camp cooking became my ministry, I come back to the same answer every time. I see it in people's eyes. I hear it in their words. I feel it in their hugs. I experience it in their gratitude. For a few days, a week, or even just a single meal, people know they are seen, valued, welcomed, and loved. And in the process of feeding them, something remarkable happens. The ministry feeds me too.  By Vonda DenBoer, Director of Camping & Campground Sustainability
At the women’s retreat held at Ziontario, I, along with about fifty other women, learned about terra divina. This practice invites one to use nature to connect with the divine. We were invited to walk silently throughout the campground and notice things. Then we were invited to pay attention to what we noticed and what it was saying to us. What stands out is not simply what I observed, but the pattern that emerged across what I noticed. As I walked, I immediately noticed the contrast between decay and life. Healed scars where trees had been trimmed seemed important. A scar is evidence of a wound, but also evidence of healing. The tree does not return to what it was before; it continues to grow around the injury. Perhaps there is a message there for the church as well. Faith communities carry wounds, losses, and disappointments, but they can continue to grow without pretending those wounds never existed. One tree had a rusty old bolt embedded in its bark, and beneath it was a shiny new bolt. I could find no purpose for the bolts and wondered. Perhaps their meaning lies not in knowing why they were there but in noticing them. Old supports eventually wear out; new supports are added. The tree remains alive while the means of support change. Decaying leaves cluttered the old path, yet bursting through the piles of leaves were sprouts of new life. Many of us find ourselves holding both grief and hope at the same time. There is grief for ministries, traditions, structures, and ways of being that once brought life but may now be fading. At the same time, there is hope as new expressions of faith emerge, often in unexpected places and forms. The tension between these realities can feel uncomfortable because we naturally want certainty—we want either preservation or transformation. Yet creation itself often holds both simultaneously. Then I saw a tree with dying branches and was drawn toward it. I was surprised, as I don’t often see elm trees, and yet here it was, striving to live yet losing the battle. Beneath this elm with mostly barren branches was a young elm sapling. The dying elm and the young sapling beneath it offer me a powerful image. Old and new side by side, connected, nourished by the same soil. The sapling grows because the older tree has existed. One makes space for the other. I thought about life in this church I love—the tension between old and new, young and old, is as old as time itself. Then an elm seed pod dropped right onto my notepaper, almost as a punctuation mark, and I laughed at the irony. Why had my attention been drawn to the contrast between that which is at the end of its life cycle and new birth emerging—side by side? The pattern that I noticed: scars and healing, decay and growth, old trees and young saplings, rusty bolts and new ones, fallen leaves and emerging shoots. The same theme—again and again. What was the divine telling me in this moment of time? Was I holding too tightly to the old familiar way of thinking and being called to look for emerging expressions of life? Perhaps the invitation was to trust that God is present not only in what has sustained and nurtured me in the past, but also in what is quietly sprouting beneath the surface. The seed pod that landed on my notebook could almost be heard as a gentle reminder: pay attention to what is being planted, not only to what is passing away. Creation continually reveals a truth about God's work: endings and beginnings are rarely separated. More often, they stand side by side, just as the dying elm and the young sapling stood together. The retreat experience also inspired creative responses. The following poem was written by retreat participant Robbin Kerr of the LaSalle Road congregation following the terra divina exercise.  Licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license.
What can a shared meal teach us about ending division? In Acts 10, Peter has a vision that changes the direction of his ministry. He realizes that the ritual purity rules that had kept him separate from gentiles no longer define the boundaries of the good news. A barrier is erased, and the table becomes a place where people once kept apart can now share in sacred community. This reflection by John Hamer, Director of Outreach and Innovative Mission, was shared from the Ottawa congregation, with Pat Mooney as our reader, as part of Beyond the Walls on June 14, 2026. Ancient religions were not primarily about individual beliefs. Far more important were the things that you do and how you do them. Every activity was accompanied by rules and rituals designed to keep people in right relationship with divine forces operating in a very dangerous world. While rituals accompanied important life events like the birth of a child, marriages, and deaths, they also accompanied every little thing you might do daily, like stepping across the threshold of your door, or preparing a meal. When societies developed special priestly castes, the priests were often subject to even more specialized rules. These rituals were understood to purify the individual, enabling them to mediate with divine forces on behalf of the whole community. For example, in Hinduism, members of the priestly caste (known as the “Brahmins”) are required to follow strict dietary laws to maintain their ritual purity. If Brahmins eat from the same plate or share utensils with someone from a different caste, they become ritually impure. The resulting caste system has had enormous consequences for India, including discrimination against individuals who are literally “outcastes.” The Sikh religion was founded in the 15th century with the goal of overturning the caste system. All Sikh places of worship include a “langar” hall, where anyone of any caste or religion can come to eat a free meal. However, all must sit on the floor and eat together, sharing a meal that signifies a complete rejection of the rules of caste and ritual purity. Israelite religion in the 1st century AD was at a crossroads with two competing ideas that were both gaining momentum. On the one hand, prophets and teachers had begun to see the God of Israel as the God of the Universe—with the implication that God is not simply Lord of a single ethnic group, but must also be Lord of every nation. On the other hand, a growing focus on the five books of Moses meant that an ever-expanding number of Judeans had begun to observe purity rules. While these historically had only been maintained by Jewish priests, many sects like the Pharisees promoted the idea that all Judeans ought to live like a nation of priests—an entire people set apart through ritual purity. In Acts, Peter testifies that from childhood on, he has never eaten foods that Mosaic law labels as ritually “unclean.” As with the Brahmins in India, following these codes has meant that Peter has been unable to share meals with individuals who are not also following the same rules. Sharing a meal with a gentile would make Peter ritually unclean. And so, the idea of ritual impurity was effectively separating Peter from the people to whom he had been commissioned to bring the good news: all the nations (or “gentiles”) of the world. Peter’s vision that “what God has made clean, you must not call profane,” signals an end to Christian observance of ritual purity laws. Like the Sikh langar that sought to overturn the caste system, the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper broke down the ritual barrier among early Christians by allowing those with Jewish backgrounds, like Peter, to share a sacred meal with new converts from all nations.  For Bonnie Bolger, the camp kitchen was more than a place to cook. It was a place where friendships were formed, stories were shared, and ministry happened in unexpected ways. Through years of serving at camp, she found community, purpose, meaningful friendships, and opportunities to serve others with love.
By Bonnie Bolger of North Bay, ON Cooking at camp has truly been my ministry over the years. I never set out to become a camp cook, but as a young mom with children of my own, I wanted to be involved in camp life. Cooking turned out to be the perfect fit. It allowed me to serve, be part of the camp community, and still care for my family at the same time. One of the greatest blessings was sharing the kitchen with a dear friend. Together, we spent countless hours preparing meals, washing dishes, and making sure everyone was fed. Those hours were filled with laughter, friendship, and some unforgettable memories. Like any camp kitchen, there were plenty of mishaps along the way. One year, my friend Anna was lighting the grill and accidentally singed off her eyebrows! Another time, while whipping up a chocolate cake in the big industrial mixer, a tea towel covering the bowl got sucked into the machine. We had our share of cooking fails, but those moments often became the stories we laughed about for years afterward. The kitchen was about much more than food. It became a gathering place where people felt welcome. Camp staff, volunteers, and guests would often stop by for a chat. Many meaningful and heartfelt conversations happened while peeling potatoes, stirring soup, or waiting for cookies to come out of the oven. The kitchen was a place where people could take a break, share their struggles, celebrate joys, and simply be themselves. I often felt that the kitchen was a soft place to land. If someone needed encouragement, a listening ear, or just a few moments away from the busyness of camp, they knew they could find it there. Sometimes ministry looked like preparing a meal, and sometimes it looked like listening to someone's story while washing dishes side by side. One of the greatest joys was watching the children enjoy camp. Seeing them laugh, play, and grow in their faith made all the hard work worthwhile. Knowing that a warm meal helped create an environment where campers could thrive gave purpose to every early morning and long day. Looking back, I realize that cooking was never just about feeding people. It was about building community, creating a welcoming space, and serving others with love. Through the meals, the conversations, the laughter, and even the occasional kitchen disaster, God used that ministry to bring people together. I am grateful for every moment spent in that camp kitchen and for the many lives that were touched there—including my own. |
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