Many seminary students would feel lucky to land their dream job right after graduation. MDiv student Carly Redding is thrilled to have been offered hers before her third year of seminary, and grateful for the contextual education placement that prepared her to take it.

 

Carly arrived at Garrett after working with the campus ministry during her time at Southwestern College in Winfield, KS, and was interested to learn more. As part of the field placement process, Carly met with Dr. Lisl Paul, director of contextual education, who recommended University Christian Ministry (UCM), a Methodist and PC USA ministry at Northwestern. The next step was aninterview with Executive Director Rev. Julie Windsor Mitchell. Both immediately felt it was a good fit, and Carly committed to the internship nearly a year in advance.

 

“I spent a lot of the first couple of weeks just observing the general vibe of the group, getting to know the students, and seeing what Julie did,” she said. “Then toward the end of October I started to get more involved in worship and preaching. They did worship on Sunday evenings and it was fairly informal. We’re all sitting on couches in a circle, but Julie or I would give a reflection on the scripture and students would pick songs. Over time I really grew into that role well and got to connect with the students in a lot of different ways.”

 

Carly’s time with the UCM also included a variety of experiences that she hadn’t expected. Some, like having to remove a dead animal from the ministry house’s yard or mopping the living room floor in preparation for yoga, were fairly mundane. Others — like baking cookies with students in the aftermath of the presidential election, working with students involved with the dining hall workers union strike, or helping out with the urban garden — were particularly meaningful. Many moments were a bit of both.

 

“Oftentimes we would hand out things in front of the house,” she said. “On the first day of school we did ice cream. On Halloween we did candy. Moments like that, truly like street evangelism, just being present and saying, ‘Hey do you want a piece of candy?’ or ‘Happy Halloween,’ standing there in your costume, were like rejection therapy.”

 

But moments like that were just the training she needed. Before her internship was over, Carly applied to be the full-time campus minister at her alma mater, Southwestern College, was hired and scheduled to begin that summer. She would be the only campus minister at a school far smaller than Northwestern, and her new skills would be needed. Upon arriving, she quickly began “Caf Convos with Pastor Carly,” making herself available to connect with students over lunch in the cafeteria. When students didn’t come to her, she went to them and simply asked if it would be okay to sit with them that day.

 

“Eventually I had a group of freshman girls from the volleyball team that would frequently sit with me,” she said. “I got to go to their games and oftentimes a lot of them were playing. It was really cool because I was able to cheer them on and then also talk about how well they’d played. Even though it might not have been the outcome they wanted, I was able to encourage them in different ways. A lot of that I gained from just those moments of handing out ice cream and handing out candy.”

 

Other lessons from her time with UCM have stuck with Carly, too. She has learned to involve students in decision making processes, guiding them as they think through ethical issues and make their own judgments. She has also learned to stay flexible enough to be prepared for anything and responsive to whatever happens, which is particularly helpful when — for example — the speaker for chapel cancels suddenly. Most of all, she is convinced of the significance of a ministry of presence, something that was exemplified by her supervisor at UCM, now a colleague who continues to offer her support.

 

“I’m really glad I was there because now I have a forever colleague and mentor in Julie,” Carly said. “She’s someone who I really admire and know that when I’m having a hard week or have a problem that I don’t know where to go with, I can call her and ask her professional opinion. I’m glad to have that relationship with Julie, because sometimes it’s nice to have somebody who knows nothing about the institution to give you some advice.”

 

For those considering doing contextual education in campus ministry, Carly would absolutely encourage them to do so. “Whether you want to work in the church or not, I would totally recommend doing campus ministry if you get the opportunity,” she said. “You see everything: birth, death, vocation, pastoral care, picket lines, food insecurity, and leadership management. You get the full breadth of church ministry. If you get an opportunity to do campus ministry, take it.”

 

The opportunity to begin theological education remotely in India, while preparing for future in-person study, has been both a gift and a meaningful step in my vocational journey.

 

My call to study theology emerged through my involvement in church ministry and teaching the Bible to young people. Over time, I sensed a deeper desire to understand Scripture more carefully and to engage theology in a way that would strengthen both my faith and my ministry. Garrett’s academic reputation—its commitment to thoughtful theological reflection, and its openness to global perspectives—attracted me here to pursue this calling.

 

However, like many students around the world, I faced practical realities that made immediate relocation difficult. Financial considerations, family responsibilities, and logistical challenges meant that moving abroad for study would take time to arrange. Without the possibility of remote study, I would have needed to postpone my theological education entirely. Instead, Garrett’s remote learning structure made it possible for me to begin my studies without delay, allowing me to start engaging with coursework, professors, and fellow students while remaining in India.

 

Studying remotely has also given me a unique advantage: I am able to remain deeply connected to my local church and community while I learn. Rather than separating academic theology from ministry, my studies constantly interact with the realities of everyday life. When I read theological texts, discuss doctrine, or reflect on the church’s mission in the world, I do so while actively participating in the life of my congregation. This allows theological ideas to be tested, refined, and lived out in real contexts.

 

Teaching and discussing Scripture with young people in my community has been especially meaningful during this time. As I learn new perspectives and engage different theological traditions through my coursework, I share those insights with others in my church. At the same time, the questions and experiences of the people I serve often shape how I approach my studies. This two-way relationship between learning and ministry has made remote study not only practical but spiritually enriching.

 

Another benefit of studying remotely is the opportunity to participate in a truly global learning environment. Though I am physically located in India, the classroom extends far beyond geographical boundaries. I interact with students and faculty who come from different cultural, theological, and ecclesial backgrounds. These conversations expand my understanding of the church as a global community and remind me that theology is always shaped by diverse voices and experiences.

 

Of course, studying remotely also requires discipline and perseverance. Managing time zones, maintaining focus in a digital learning environment, and balancing academic work with ministry responsibilities can be challenging. Yet these challenges have also helped me develop habits of commitment and resilience that will serve me well in future studies and ministry.

 

Looking ahead, I hope to eventually continue my education in person at Garrett. Being able to study on campus would allow for deeper relationships with faculty and classmates and greater immersion in the seminary community. However, beginning my education remotely has already provided a strong foundation for that next step. It has let me start this journey now rather than waiting for the perfect circumstances.

 

In many ways, remote study reflects the reality of the global church today. Faith communities are connected across cultures, languages, and nations; theological education must adapt to this interconnected world. Garrett’s commitment to supporting students in different parts of the world demonstrates a vision of theological education that is both accessible and globally engaged.

 

For me, studying remotely has not been merely a temporary arrangement. It has been a meaningful way to begin my theological formation while remaining rooted in the community that first nurtured my calling. I am grateful for the opportunity to learn, grow, and serve simultaneously, and I look forward to continuing this journey with Garrett in the years ahead.

 

May God richly bless the leadership, teaching faculty, and staff of Garrett for making it possible for students to pursue their dreams of theological education, even from the farthest corners of the world. Their dedication and support have opened doors for many students to learn, grow, and serve faithfully in their calling.

 

Zachary Nyquest grew up in Calumet, Iowa, population 99. Dr. Ebenezer Concepc��ó�� grew up in Union City, New Jersey, just a stone’s throw away from New York City. Neither students’ childhood religious tradition could hold the fullness of the men they would become. Both fell away from church for years, as they learned to embrace their sexualities and live into the abundance God intends for their lives. Now, both are pursuing their Master of Divinity degree, so they can create spaces of thriving—nurturing a more loving world than the one they inherited. While there are broad commonalities between their journeys, it’s the differences between their stories that reveal the breadth of Garrett Seminary’s community—space for all people to explore the particularities of their faiths and callings.

 

Concepc��ó��’s childhood was powerfully shaped by Latiné Pentecostalism, rooted in a Puerto Rican community where the boundaries between church and family were thin. “I often say I was born and raised in the gospel,” he says with a smile. “From a very young age, I grew up singing in the church. I was the leader of the children’s group, and a youth pastor when I was in college.” But those college years were also a period of personal transformation. “At that time, I was awakening to my sexuality as a queer person,” Concepc��ó�� remembers. “Pentecostalism, for the most part, leans more conservative. Being gay was not okay. It wasn’t until I started to take classes on Latiné queer literature—topics of gender, sexuality, and power—that I began to understand how I could connect my queerness to my cultural heritage.”

 

The conservatism of Nyquest’s home church was of the white evangelical persuasion, but it held similarly scant space for his burgeoning identity. Moreover, its theology could not help him parse that stirring longing. “Growing up, theology was easy: I just had to listen to the pastor and that was my theology,” Nyquest recalls. “But all of a sudden, I had these big theological questions that defied simple answers. My entire theological foundation crumbled and I was too scared to rebuild it, in case it crumbled again.” In that fearful moment, joining the National Guard provided stability he so badly needed. “I joined when I was 17, a junior in high school,” he says. “When my life was going crazy, the National Guard was the one thing that was consistent—and that consistency helped me get out of that dark place.”

 

After graduating from college, Concepc��ó�� accepted a public policy fellowship in Washington D.C. and began a path that would lead him away from the Pentecostalism of his youth, and through a doctoral program at The University of Chicago. After completing a post-doc, he accepted a Leading Edge Fellowship from the American Council of Learned Societies, which brought him back to Chicago for a job with YWCA Metropolitan Chicago. “I lead their prevention work against gender-based and community violence,” he explains, “but I’m still reconciling with my faith as well, trying to find how I can follow Jesus without all these things that have been imposed onto him.” Nyquest similarly found that even when he rejected his childhood Christianity, he couldn’t shake the feeling of divine interconnectedness. “I ran away from church as fast as I could,” he laughs. “But the harder I pushed back against God, the more I believed in Him and His love.”

 

Eventually, that spiritual discernment led Nyquest through a Presbyterian Church (USA) congregation that offered affirming theologies that helped him integrate his queerness and his faith. But it was the military that continued to shape his sense of call: In the middle of a particularly intense drill weekend, he had an awakening that illuminated the road ahead. “During a religious service while the chaplain was talking with us, I was praying and suddenly knew: I could be in that chaplain’s position, helping those who struggle,” he confesses. “The stress and physical exhaustion lifted from my body. I knew my calling was to be the person who I needed when I first joined.”

 

When he describes what led him to study at Garrett, Concepc��ó��’s words reverberate that desire to create the space for people who follow in his footsteps. “I want to create a curriculum for LGBTQ+ people of color, particularly Latiné folks, so they can better understand the history of Christianity and religious violence and how it intersects with race, ethnicity, queerness, and transness,” he explains. “The YWCA doesn’t only do prevention work, we also offer counseling for survivors. I want to give better tools to survivors of religious or spiritual violence and engage more deeply with faith communities.” In some ways, this is a natural extension of the work the YWCA is already doing. “I want to be more structured and intentional about it, though,” Concepc��ó�� adds. “Garrett will not only give me the theological foundation I need. Its practical components and encouragement to intersectionality will also set me up for what I want to do.”

 

At Garrett, their experiences join those of their classmates. The seminary’s wide diversity offers both the resonance that feeds belonging and a difference that spurs growth. “There’s such a wide range of faiths and ethnic heritage, we’re exposed to so many different thoughts, opinions, and ideas,” Nyquest excitedly reports. “Some people who grew up in the United Methodist Church are very strong in that faith. Then you have someone like me who completely forgot faith but came back, but we’re all sharing ideas and beliefs, and growing together.” While he attends a United Church of Christ congregation now, pieces of Concepc��ó��’s Pentecostal heritage still inform how he experiences the learning community. “God is real. The Spirit, however we name it, does great things—it brings renewal, happiness, and joy,” he concludes. “God is just becoming more expansive, welcoming, even rebellious. Every new perspective adds nuance, strengthening faith so we can approach it through a different lens.”

 

It all began as an experiment in saying “yes” to God. Becca Baughman had just graduated from college and enrolled as a United Methodist global missions fellow in Tampa. Before she left home, she promised herself that—for the next year—she would place any fears and doubts aside and follow God wherever the Spirit led. Three years later, she’sserving as a licensed solo pastor in rural Indiana, pursuing her MDiv at Garrett Seminary, seeking ordination as an Elder. None of this is what she intended when she left for Florida, but somewhere along the way that “yes” transformed from an experiment into a habit—and God had different plans.

 

Almost immediately, her carefully laid-out vision began to go awry. The night before she left, she discovered that the fellow who was supposed to serve beside her in Tampa had to leave the program. “She was supposed to serve at the church full-time, and I was going to serve at a community home and shelter. I was like, ‘Okay, but what does that I mean for where I’m supposed to meet you? Where am I living?’” Baughman recalls with a chuckle. “They told me not to worry—they would figure things out while I drove, and I would have a place to stay when I got there.” When she arrived, she learned that her time would be split between the two locations—a program she had planned to be entirely devoted to social services would now include growing the church’s family and community ministries. “I was like, ‘Dang it! I told God I would walk through doors, so I said ‘yes,’” Baughman says. “I learned so much about putting my faith into action across extremely different environments—one a local church, one with unhoused people and families, and all the trauma that goes with that.”

 

And still, the surprises just kept coming. The Sunday after Christmas, a guest preacher fell through and the pastor came calling. “She said, ‘You never have to do it again, but would you be willing to preach that Sunday?’” Baughman reports, again with a laugh. The sermon went better than she could have imagined and, before long, Baughman was led repeatedly into the pulpit. In one memorable instance, her supervisor at the shelter asked her to lead their weekly worship in her absence. “When my supervisor came back from vacation, her supervisor told her ‘This girl has a gift for preaching, we need to make sure she goes into ministry,’” Baughman smiles. “So, I started my journey to become an ordained Deacon in the United Methodist Church.”

 

Home in Indiana after her program, however, that firm intention began to shift. While working at a UMC summer camp, she met Garrett alum and district superintendent Marti Lundy, who quickly affirmed the same call to parish ministry that others had sensed in Tampa. “She told me, ‘I have a small church in DeMotte, Indiana that could really use a part-time pastor like you. It’s a really great congregation, and they want a pastor who can bring young people into their church,’” Baughman says. “The more I thought and prayed, the answer started to become ‘yes.’”

 

Now, she’s already one semester into her program, juggling the demands of seminary and parish life, and—to her surprise but evidently no one else’s—she’s thriving. “I started working, getting into the groove, and I thought, ‘Oh no. I really like this. I think I’m called to be in the local church,” she laughs, last to the joke. “I don’t know how to describe it except my heart is here.”

 

Fortunately, she’s found Garrett Seminary to be an exceptional place to study while also serving in ministry. “I’m far from alone in being both a student and a pastor. That’s helped so much, because there’s a whole community to whom I can reach out and say, ‘Classes are a lot. Pastoring is a lot. Finals are coming, but I also have to be ready for Advent,’” she reports. “And a lot of professors are either currently in parish ministry or have been in parish ministry. They’re always so intentional about how we can take the knowledge we’re receiving and bring bite-sized pieces of it into the congregation. It’s giving me a toolkit to do ministry and do it well.”

 

The academic format also facilitates a balance between church and coursework. Asynchronous classes help her fit academia into her ministry schedule, and week-long intensives in Evanston offer doorways into deeper spiritual formation. “Even though I don’t live on campus, I have access to all the resources that I need. And not just physical resources but spiritual resources as well. I’m not left alone on an island to figure out how to pastor and student at the same time,” she grins. “Garrett is also really good at making sure that events are not just on campus but also hosted online. In our Welcome Week, for example, there was a library tour for people who were on campus, but there was also an online tour guiding us to library resources that are available to us while we’re far away.”

 

Ultimately, Baughman has found a sacred reciprocity: All those “yesses” she offered to God are returning her way in spades. “In Northwest Indiana, if I say that I go to Garrett, it’s highly likely someone will say ‘Oh, I’m an alumni!’” she shares. “It’s really helped me connect with other people in my conference as a young pastor.” Requirements like field education become simpler, too: She’s already serving in the field. “My field education mentor Brittany Stephan (G-ETS ’18) is also an alum,” Baughman notes. “I’m so glad to partner with someone who’s in her 30s, closer to my own age, who can walk beside me.” The biggest affirmation, however, comes from the work itself. “I just love discipleship and helping people grow,” she concludes with clear contentment. “Even if it’s just one person, I love being able to watch them take the next step in their faith.”

 

If I am going to invite you into my reflections of Black theology across the diaspora, then I am going to have to set the scene. You are entering the world of a young girl. A young girl, who was born in Britain to Ghanaian immigrant parents and grew up in the predominantly whiteneighborhoods of Suffolk County, 82 miles north of London. A young girl, who, by the age of 18, had been a member of 5 churches of different denominations—with her family and by herself. A girl, who, at the age of 7, felt a nagging to travel the world and tell people about Jesus,whilst advocating for her neighbors’ rights and welfare.

 

This young girl is me, now a young woman in her early 20s. My experiences of Black theology in the US and in the UK are particular to me. I cannot speak on behalf of all Black British people, but my story is collective and individual at the same time. Growing up in the Pentecostal-charismatic wings of the Baptist, Anglican, and nondenominational churches, my parents found it easy to translate their theologies of holiness, excellence, and grace from Ghana to the UK. Living into the abundant life of Christ looked like pouring into and excelling within the gifts that Christ has given us. It meant having a high standard of hospitality for guests, bringing home good report cards, having a rigorous spiritual life of prayer and meditating on the Word of God.

 

The parables in the Big Girl Bible (the nickname I gave the adult Bible, not the children’s Bible) were not just words to gloss over, they were stories that my parents and the Sunday School aunties and uncles would get me to imagine. Helping me tap into the emotions and faith of the biblical saints who experienced the horrors of humanity, only to be delivered and transformed by the loving grace of God. Faith was vibrant and real. The Bible was real; of course I was going to school with Daniel, a culturally and theologically marginalized gifted person who is in an education system created by the empire. There was no argument that Veronica, the woman with the issue of blood, understood what I was going through, finding Jesus as my only hope for healing when the medical system disappointed me time and time again because they were unable to identify symptoms on Black skin or in a female body.

 

Sonic theologies filled my home, where my parents taught my brother and me to be Psalmists, meditating on the melodies and lyrics of the diaspora day and night. Like many Christian-raised Black British kids, our liturgical lexicon included hymnody from Europe and the Black Church tradition, West African doxologies, Praise and Worship, and West African Gospel Christian Contemporary Music. Even if we were the only Black family in our church, the songs of our home created a portal to imagine Acts 2 in its full glory. At home, the music videos of Mary Mary and Daughters of Glorious Jesus reminded me that I was made in the image of God and that I was a vessel for the Gospel.

 

When it was testimony time at the Nigerian Pentecostal church of my childhood, stories of successful visa applications, college admissions, job acceptances, smooth childbirth, and more would overflow from the pulpit, each testimony ending with an eruption of joy ringing through the congregation. For this young girl, the theology was clear. God heard us, the African and Caribbean immigrants, their children, and grandchildren. God heard our cries and cared for our survival. God didn’t want us to survive; God wanted us to thrive.

 

And yet, as this theology of care and abundant life was blossoming within this young, creative girl, certain spiritual corners were troubling her. If she was made fearfully and wonderfully made, then why did my white siblings in Christ struggle to pronounce my name correctly, when they could pronounce names like Tchaikovsky? If the body of Christ was global, then why is there a pattern of Black Majority Church congregations in the UK knowing Christian Contemporary Music and European hymns in as much depth as Gospel Highlife, Nigerian Gospel, and US Gospel, whilst our British non-Black siblings in Christ would only know a handful of songs in comparison?

 

I wrestled with these questions in college as the call to ministry grew louder in my ear. It was through my academic advisor and undergrad dissertation supervisor, Rev. Dr. Alisha Lola Jones, that I was introduced to womanist theologians and preachers, including Rev. Dr. Renita Weems, Rev. Dr. Elaine Flake, Rev. Dr. Teresa L. Fry Brown, Rev. Dr. Khalia J Williams, Rev. Dr. Barbara Holmes and Garrett alum Rev. Dr. Emilie Townes. In the assignments we worked together, she created the space for me to uncover the theological richness baked into the joyous sounds of my girlhood, which have guided me in life. It was through auditing theology classes that I was given the chance to read Black theologians Rev. Dr. James Cone and Rev. Dr. Willie James Jennings alongside African theologians Mercy Amba Oduyoye and Dr. Nimi Wariboko, building a theology which contained multitudes of Blackness as the Imago Dei.

 

After this, going to a seminary in the US didn’t feel unusual. After all, the theologies of Black Majority Churches in the UK were influenced by weaving the global body of Christ and the African diaspora. The traumatic legacies of the enslavement of Africans and the colonization of African geographies cannot be deemed the same. Yet, as beautifully depicted in Yaa Gyasi’snovel Homegoing, these legacies are interconnected by how people seek life in death-dealing systems. It is one thing to have read the womanist and Black liberation texts in a classroom. It’s another to experience them alive in the Black Church. From Black women’s March Gladnesspreaching circuit in Evanston, the spirit-filled liturgies resounding across Chicago’s South Sideduring Holy Week, and the shouts of joy from the Northwestern Community Ensemble, every moment Black theologies are enfleshed is a transformative reminder that God’s will for abundant life is very much alive amongst the African diasporas. Each life is distinct, fearfully and wonderfully made, containing insights that can be translated, not replicated, into other contexts of Black Christianity across the world. As I continue to sit in the myriad theologies of the Black Church, I remember that young girl, the one who felt a nagging to travel the world and tell people about Jesus, whilst advocating for other people’s rights and welfare. I remember her love for singing and history. I remember her desire to delve deeper in her love for God and her love for people. I remember her questions about how her Blackness and faith fit into the body of Christ. Now, I think her questions are finally beginning to be answered.

 

 

Rev. Dr. Nikki Gilliam didn’t need a field education placement for her MDiv. She needed an MDiv that would fit into the pastoring she was already doing.

 

Gilliam entered ordained ministry with the Christian Methodist Episcopal (CME) Church after years of wrestling with a sense of call. Her husband had first named the possibility when, as the Sunday School Superintendent at their church, she’d written Bible personality bulletin inserts so engaging that church members started sending them to family and friends. But it wasn’t until over a decade later, after denial had given way to uncertain consideration, that she reached some clarity.

 

One particular Sunday, a guest preacher came to church and felt led to pray for people at the end of the service. “’I was like, ‘Okay, Lord, if this is really what you want, if you are really calling me to this, it’s going to come out of her mouth,’” Gilliam said. “I hadn’t talked to my pastor about what I was wrestling with. I waited in line, and as she prayed over people, people were falling out. I could just feel it as I got closer. Then it was my turn, and every word that came out of her mouth was confirmation. Within a day or two, I called my pastor and said, ‘I think I’m being called to the ministry,’ and he said, ‘What took you so long?’”

 

Over the next years, Gilliam moved through the CME ordination process, spending a year as a locally licensed preacher, learning from her own pastor, before entering the itinerancy track and being ordained first as a deacon and then as an elder. By that time, the presiding bishop was Dr. Charley Hames, Jr., who appointed Gilliam to her first church, mentored her through her first year, and encouraged her to consider pursuing an MDiv at Garrett Seminary, his own alma matter. When it came time for formal field education work shortly after Gilliam was appointed pastor of her current church, Amos Memorial CME Church in Los Angeles, CA, it only made sense to ask Bishop Hames to serve as her official mentor once again. When the two met to discuss Gilliam’s goals for the semester, he offered a helpful reminder that the class didn’t need to create extra work but could instead be an opportunity to focus on goals that she already had for her ministry.

 

“I want to be more intentional about the way I spend my energy, and include time for rest, time for reflection, and more intentional time for devotion,” she said. “With all of the things that happen at a church site, it can be easy to get caught up in everything I have to do. Not only am I a pastor, but I also have a full-time job in education—I work for the Los Angeles Unified School District—so I don’t have a whole lot of extra time.”

 

Gilliam’s other goals include working with the leaders in her congregation, training them to be proactive in their roles and to develop a sense of vision in a way that strengthens the ministry of the church and so that labor doesn’t fall solely on the pastor. Among these members, she is also organizing a pastor’s care team who can hold her accountable to her intention for rest and for shared leadership. Some of them are already doing so. One Sunday in November, after a particularly difficult couple of weeks involving a leaking roof and flooded kitchen, a woman came forward during worship for prayer, not for herself but for her pastor. Others then came forward, surrounding Gilliam, and the pastor’s care team leader led the congregation in prayer.

 

“It was incredibly humbling,” Gilliam said. “It’s been my experience that pastors don’t really let people in. There’s been a wall between clergy and lay. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pastor who has admitted that it’s been a week and they’re struggling. At one point, I felt like I was opening myself up to criticism or causing people to question their own faith. But I think because they could see that I’m human too—and I have said so many times that we are on this journey together—it provides a sense of comfort. It was humbling that someone saw me and thought enough to make that public declaration, but it was also comforting to know that maybe it is a good thing that I have been this transparent with my faith walk so that others can be transparent too.”

 

Continuing to journey with her congregation, specifically taking the time to “listen to the hearts of the people,” is another of Gilliam’s goals. One unique quality of her congregation is that so many of its members are related to each other, and yet they’ve also been open and welcoming to their pastor and to visitors. That combination of closeness and hospitality imbues the life of the church and makes pastoral visits feel like visiting relatives. Gilliam recalls one woman who seemed to have given up when she visited but was talking, laughing, and eating a full plate of food by the time the pastor left.

 

“You know you’re going to provide some kind of pastoral care for them,” Gilliam said, “and then you end up feeling more uplifted than before you visited. I enjoy that.”

 

For Gilliam, the Garrett field education class is an opportunity to work toward all these goals, offering benchmarks for growth, opportunities for reflection, and support in ministry. That support characterizes her experience at Garrett as a whole, where she feels faculty and staff see students in their humanity and actively seek ways to support them. Rather than suggesting that her plate is too full, they’ve simply asked—in word and action—how they can help her navigate all she has to do and support her in the fullness of her ministry.

 

When Dr. Emma A. Escobar began her work at Garrett Seminary in 2024, she was tasked with expanding the institution’s work with and for the Latine community. A year later, Garrett is gathering for a week of celebration with the debut of Centro Raíces Latinas (previously, the Hispanic-Latinx Center). This launch is the product of a year of work where Dr. Escobar led members of Garrett outside the seminary and into many communities from the Evanston Public Library all the way to Chile.

 

The Centro Raíces Latinas is built on the pillars of faith, solidarity, education, and culture, elements that became evident as Dr. Escobar met members of the Latine community in Evanston and asked, “How do you see a center housed in a theological seminary serving your community?” It’s a deeply intentional question considering the tensions between the Latine community, the church, and the academy, which Dr. Escobar explains stem from “issues of accessibility, power dynamics, and a lack of mutual trust.” For this reason, the Centro Raíces Latinas seeks to heal and nurture these relationships so that each entity may be enriched by their mutual wisdom.

 

The pillars of the Centro Raíces Latinas reflect an intersection between Garrett’s vision “for the healing of the world” and recurrent themes from the conversations Dr. Escobar had with Latine organizations, leaders, and community members. “Faith and solidarity came up together a lot when talking about social justice and justice movements,” says Dr. Escobar. “We had conversations about how we are living through these times, this government, and what is happening around the world. How are we in solidarity with one another? How do we engage in conversations of decolonialization as we look at how we practice our faith and read our sacred text?”

 

These questions revealed the need for another pillar: Education. This work has two sides—Latine communities learning from the resources Garrett has to offer and Garrett as an institution learning from el pueblo, the people. The Centro Raíces Latinas will nurture education in multiple ways. One important project is building partnerships with seminaries and universities across Latin America. Already this year, Garrett entered a partnership with the Methodist Church of Chile, beginning with a visit from Rev. Dr. Miguel Ulloa. The director of Chile Methodist Seminary, served as a speaker for the Escuela de Ministerio at Garrett,a gathering that trained Latine clergy and lay leaders throughout the North Central Jurisdiction. And this past summer, a delegation from Garrett visited Chile to learn about how the Methodist church is cultivating education, public health, and ecological regeneration.

 

Garrett students will also benefit from these partnerships. The Centro Raíces Latinas will offer chances for students to do their field education in different parts of Latin America. “One of my dreams for the Centro Raíces Latinas is that we can provide opportunities for our second or third generation Latine students to visit Latin America,” says Dr. Escobar. “I’m really excited to facilitate experiences for our students so they can go back to their roots and learn from our partner universities.”

 

The last pillar of the Centro Raíces Latinas is culture. As the Latine communities throughout the United States grow exponentially, seminaries are tasked with forming leaders capable of serving multicultural, diverse churches. Through the work of the Centro Raíces, Garrett can be a point of connection for non-Latine ministers to learn with, from, and about the Latine experience.

 

The re-launch of the Centro Raíces Latinas coincides with a moment when the Latine community in Chicago faces increased persecution from federal authorities. In the midst of these forces, Dr. Escobar reminds us that celebrating Latine culture is a form of building solidarity. “We love to gather and celebrate in the midst of the struggle,” she says. “Celebration is how we lift each other up, and it is a beautiful part of how our communities build resilience.”

 

Bien se sabe que los caminos que llevan a las personas al ministerio pastoral son tan diversos como quienes reciben el llamado, pero, en el contexto estadounidense, es común que la educac��ó�� teológica formal sea un requisito para quienes son llamades a predicar la Palabra y liderar la iglesia. Sin embargo, la educac��ó�� teológica formal a través del seminario es muchas veces un privilegio accesible sólo para unos pocos. Tal es el caso del pastor Lino Aragón, quien ha caminado una infinitud de senderos en su vida ministerial pero nunca había tenido la oportunidad de recibir los estudios teológicos necesarios para servir como pastor en la Iglesia Metodista Unida. Para Lino recibir esta educac��ó�� teológica ha sido más que el cumplimiento de un requisito, él comenta: “esta educac��ó�� nos nutre con lo que más necesitamos para continuar y mejorar el ministerio que ha estamos haciendo.” Hoy, el caminar de Lino lo ha llevado a ser estudiante de la Escuela del Curso de Estudio (ECE) en el seminario teológico Garrett-Evangelical, donde finalmente está recibiendo una formac��ó�� teológica formal en e���貹ñ�DZ�.

La Escuela del Curso de Estudio es un programa establecido por la Junta General de Educac��ó�� y Ministerio de la Iglesia Metodista Unida que busca avanzar la educac��ó�� teológica y pastoral de las personas en capacidad de liderazgo en la ���Դdz����Բ�����ón. La Iglesia Metodista Unida requiere que las personas en el camino a la ordenac��ó�� como ancianos posean una maestría en divinidad o estudios equivalentes en teología o relig��ó��. Sin embargo, la Junta General de Educac��ó�� y Ministerio ha creado la ECE como un camino alternativo para la formac��ó�� de pastores locales con derechos sacramentales y autoridad ministerial que les permite cumplir con las responsabilidades de anciano. El currículo de la ECE comprende veinte cursos en diversos temas como historia del cristianismo, interpretac��ó�� bíblica y evangelismo.

 

Honorio Morales, quien sirve como coordinador de la ECE en Garrett, destaca la importancia del acompañamiento personalizado que el equipo de la ECE en Garrett provee a las personas estudiantes con el fin de reflejar las realidades y retos de su vida diaria. Honorio explica que muches estudiantes “son pastores a medio tiempo, bi-vocacionales y hasta tri-vocacionales que sirven fielmente en sus congregaciones a pesar de las limitaciones de tiempo y recursos.”

 

Una parte central de este acompañamiento personalizado es la oferta de cursos en e���貹ñ�DZ�. La pastora Lisa DePaz, comenta que las clases de la ECE que ha llevado en Garrett no han sido traducciones de cursos originalmente pensados en inglés, sino experiencias educativas arraigadas en el contexto Latino. Esta contextualizac��ó�� también ha sido importante para el pastor Lino, que actualmente sirve en una iglesia mayoritariamente anglosajona y espera poder iniciar un ministerio hispano en su comunidad. Lino se siente inspirado y respaldado en su labor gracias a los recursos que ha adquirido en la ECE a través de tanto el contenido de las clases como las conexiones y el compañerismo con otres pastores Latines.

 

La formac��ó�� integral contextualizada de la ECE en e���貹ñ�DZ� en Garrett es un espacio donde pastores Latines con años e inclusive décadas de experiencia ministerial son empoderades en su labor pastoral. Lejos de buscar reemplazar los años de experiencia práctica de les estudiantes, la ECE en e���貹ñ�DZ� hace accesible una educac��ó�� teológica que respalda y complementa la invaluable experiencia ministerial de les estudiantes. Esto lo refleja la pastora Lisa en su reflex��ó�� sobre el valor que ha traído la ECE a su ministerio de más de 50 años, “Yo hice el trabajo de campo primero, pero el acceso a la educac��ó�� teológica formal ha enriquecido mi conocimiento práctico con un conocimiento académico que me ha dado más firmeza y confianza en lo que creo y enseño y me ha dado confirmac��ó�� sobre las cosas que estoy haciendo bien.”

 

 

“I come from a people whose histories have been officially recorded for over 2,300 years. Our students bring those long traditions that still influence how they see the world, different sets of knowledge that enrich the entire community.” Dr. Anne Joh’s eyes light up when she discusses international student’s impact on Garrett’s classrooms. In her role as the Harry R. Kendall Professor of Christian Theology and Postcolonial Studies, this passion isn’t just personal, it’s also her professional analysis for how institutions like Garrett can commit to decolonizing theological higher education—and why all students benefit from that work. “Our institutions still sustain the aftermath of colonialism. It wasn’t just the military, the academy also carried out these projects,” she says. “How can we participate in decolonization if the people whose lives are affected by these experiences aren’t in our classrooms? Having students from around the world helps us unlearn an US-centric perspective and reimagine what it means to be human together.” By committing to this ethic through structural and epistemological changes, Garrett is building an educational community that reflects the global church, nurtures collaborative work, and deepens all students’ learning.

 

 

When Academic Dean Jennifer Harvey arrived at Garrett two years ago, she was delighted to find this process already well-underway. “Faculty conducted an audit of the entire curriculum, engaging one another around questions of who is on the syllabi, who gets read, which narratives are central to our pedagogy,” she recalls. “It’s very common in higher education for folks to say, ‘We want to center marginalized voices,’ but often Eurocentric, white, male perspectives are still experienced as normative. That conversation is fundamentally different when you have a faculty whose ‘center’ is profoundly global.” Nearly half of Garrett’s professors grew up outside the United States, hailing from twelve different countries spanning four continents. Those experiences shape education, for students and their colleagues alike.

 

 

It has also attracted unprecedented international diversity among the seminary’s incoming classes, illuminating new opportunities for cross-cultural learning. Rev. Paola Márquez is a Ph.D. candidate in Christian education with a minor in Theological and Ethical studies, and they are quick to name how transnational conversations impact their work. Born and educated in Colombia, Rev. Márquez’s doctoral research focuses on complicating Latine notions of mestizaje and its liberatory potential. “Because my work is particularly concerned with mestizaje’s relationship to Blackness, my thought partners have primarily been African American students and students from the continent,” they share. “It’s fascinating to see people asking similar questions about race and theology in Northern Africa and helps me bring more textured questions to my own project.” This intercultural exchange also decentralizes expertise and wisdom. “It enables us to become teachers for one another,” Rev. Márquez observes. “We cannot become attached to ideas of absolute truth but instead understand what works in each of our communities. Particularly now, Indigenous, Black, and other immigrant communities have so many knowledges of care and resistance to authoritarianism.”

 

 

The truth the community has uncovered is that the Christian values which shape flourishing faith communities also nurture a fertile, dynamic learning environment. “There’s already so much destruction in the world, we live it every minute,” Dr. Joh confesses. “More and more, I feel the Christian call to discipleship—to embody kindness and love our neighbor—has a powerful effect within the classroom, too. At the end of the day, when the world is on fire, what really matters is the life we create together.” Rev. Márquez is similarly quick to name the world’s impact, and how classrooms can incubate belonging to embolden students’ voices. “With so much fear, there is a level of anxiety and depression, especially when you are demanded to think and produce,” they share. “We need spaces that remind us we are supposed to follow our own calling, not let others decide what we can or cannot speak about.”

 

 

Ultimately, that deeper belonging is embodied in the journey many international students make to study on Garrett’s campus, and the gifts they bring with them. “We get the incredible opportunity as an educational community to prepare leaders from the very communities where the church is growing quickest,” Dean Harvey notes. “Expanding access for those learners contributes so much richness.” Indeed, as Dr. Joh observes, Garrett benefits not only from some of the world’s most prodigious students, but also from the entire communities investing in their vocation. “It’s not that we’re the benevolent nation to which these folks are coming, and they’re beneficiaries of our humanitarian educational goodness,” she laughs. “Students are multilingual, emerging from incredibly competitive educational systems, bringing their own rich histories. But they’re also sent by whole communities—aunts, uncles, cousins, and neighbors all pulling together to fund as well as pray for their being here.” As Garrett trains leaders to serve communities and bolster collective flourishing, these students’ stories are a living testimony to what people can accomplish through love and dedication. They’re an invitation to travel further together. “We all must work on the self-decolonial project to find the mental liberation that comes from that unlearning,” Dr. Joh concludes. “That process is always mutually enriching.”

“When I first felt the call, it was like every door was closed. Then, I decided, ‘Yes, I’m going to do this,’ and suddenly those closed doors started opening.” Benjiman Durfee is a first-year M.Div. student, who already serves Trinity Church in Shelburne Falls, Massachusetts as a licensed local pastor. Like many who seek ordination his path was not simple, and yet he remained ardently committed to following God’s claim upon his life; his hunger to serve his community. Fortunately, Garrett Seminary’s commitment to improve access and affordability in theological education helped eliminate structural barriers, bolstering Durfee’s faith that this dream lay within his grasp.

 

Durfee didn’t originally plan to serve in ministry. “I had gone through a really difficult time in college,” he remembers. “I started working as music director at a church, but didn’t feel like I had a personal relationship with God. But, when I showed up each Sunday, it began to feel like all the sermons spoke directly to my life.” Week after week, he heard the minister speak directly into the pain he experienced as a gay man growing up in the church, offering care and the potent reminder of how deeply he was loved by God. “It seemed like she was on a mission to heal me, even though she didn’t know what was going on,” he confesses. “It was God’s grace calling me back.”

 

Over years, Durfee’s commitment to the church deepened. People would regularly ask if he had considered a ministerial vocation, but the call always felt just beyond his reach. “I was working too many jobs at once, trying to engage in ministry part-time. When I would look at the time demands, the money, it just wasn’t going to work,” he says. “A year later, I found myself appointed as a local pastor to this congregation, working three-quarters time. I wanted to continue my education so I could better guide the people I serve, but I couldn’t see how that was possible.” He did not want to leave his church community, nor could he afford to uproot his life for a residential seminary program. “Then, I heard that at Garrett you can study for an M.Div. entirely online,” he recalls. “For the first time, it felt possible that I could pursue my dream to make ministry a full-time vocation.”

 

Garrett didn’t only eliminate logistical hurdles, a significant scholarship eased the financial burden, too. “If I hadn’t received a scholarship, I would not be doing this right now,” he says bluntly. “But the timing is right, and I’m so glad that Garrett and its generous donors are making this possible.” Indeed, philanthropic giving enables Garrett to offer students, on average, a 70% tuition scholarship, blazing a path that students like Durfee can travel. “I’m so excited to have colleagues with whom to reflect theologically,” he says with joy. “It feels like everything in the world is falling apart around us, and this is a place where I can build my own prophetic voice to offer hope.”

 

That pastoral presence Durfee feels called to offer is firmly grounded in the care he received. “Coming to understand how deeply God loved me transformed my life,” he says. “It helped me deconstruct what the world had told me about myself and find meaning. I want to be that vessel of God’s grace for others.” As he begins classes, Garret’s constructive ethos and focus on servant leadership have already reassured Durfee that he’s where he’s supposed to be. “We are called to be co-creators with God,” he observes. “All the suffering in our world can feel overwhelming, but if we focus on the difference we can make within ourselves and in our local communities, that can be the spark to bring renewal.”