On Friday nights in Nashville, while much of the city headed out, seven young adults squeezed into Jordan’s tiny apartment.

 
There were not enough chairs, so people brought camping chairs from home. Her oversized dog claimed one of the only real seats in the room, refusing to move despite Jordan’s repeated apologies. They gathered in the living room, trying to build something that didn’t yet exist.

The prompt that day had been wilderness, and for teenagers that age, wilderness often takes the form of shifting friendships and the fear of being left behind. Not deserts or mountaintops of the bible times, but cafeterias, friend groups, changing schools, the slow fear that belonging may not last forever.

The Christian story does not rush past wilderness. Jesus enters it. Stays in it and is formed there. And on that warm spring afternoon, beneath a gazebo in North Carolina, a circle of teenagers did the same.

For a group of women who had known each other for years, it turned out there was still more to discover. Five minutes was enough time for stories to deepen. Enough time for strangers to become friends and friends to become companions. Enough time for an ordinary room in a quiet church to become sacred space.

And enough time for people to discover that beneath the surface of familiar lives, there are always deeper stories waiting to be heard.

It was winter, and the group gathered indoors in a simple church community hall, the kind of unhurried room that asked nothing of them except to show up. A circle of chairs surrounded a single candle burning quietly in the center. The teenagers themselves carried a surprising stillness into the room. They were not performing participation or waiting to be called on. They listened carefully to one another, calm, attentive, and open in a way that felt both rare and deeply genuine.

For four years, women from Plymouth Congregational Church, a predominantly white congregation, and Corinthian Baptist Church, a predominantly black congregation, had been finding ways to know one another.

The two churches sit less than two miles apart in Des Moines, yet for more than a century had rarely shared life together in meaningful ways. Slowly, intentionally, that began to change. There were Bible studies, book discussions, music events, jazz happy hours, and community storytelling gatherings. Relationships formed over time, steadily and sincerely.

So when the Austin Story Project Story Circle process arrived, it did not begin from scratch. It became the next faithful step.

Becky Rische thought she had been handed the dream team.

Her Story Circle was made up of Bishop Sue Briner and the staff of the Southwest Texas Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America.  This group of leaders was already accustomed to vulnerability, theological reflection, and speaking openly about faith. They were people whose work required them to live close to the heart of the church: one coordinating migration ministry, another focused on evangelical mission, one centered on faith formation, another helping recruit and connect Spanish-speaking communities across Texas. They already knew one another well. They already trusted one another.

At Myers Park Presbyterian Church in Charlotte, North Carolina, Lent always arrives with intention. In a large church bustling with thousands of members, Lent is a time when many in the church join a new study. The season invites people to slow down long enough to reflect on suffering, loss, and the long journey toward Easter hope.

For Bess Kercher, that preparation took the form of the Story Circle. For her, preparation began before anyone else entered the room.

Before they ever stepped onto a plane for Senegal, Dr. Jamie Tanner knew the team needed more than logistics. The work ahead of them was too difficult, too complex, and too human for that.

A group consisting of eight women and two men was preparing to partner in a project supporting women and children in Senegal who had experienced exploitation and displacement. Alongside local organizations, the coalition hoped to expand a farm outside Saint-Louis into something more -- create cottages, an infirmary, a schoolhouse, a place of worship, and a long-term community where healing and flourishing might take root. It was ambitious work. Tender work. The kind of work that would require trust long before anyone arrived on the ground.

The group was smaller than expected. The hope had been for six to eight people, but only five women showed up. Most were mothers of young children, ranging from newborn-stage parenting to elementary school drop-offs, all from the same large church. And as sometimes happens in large churches, finding community can take some intentionality.   

Before the first Story Circle night was over, Lisa said out loud what the others were already feeling. “I think we found something.” No one quite knew what to call it yet. 

July 28 – August 7, 2025
The Fierce Nonviolence Pilgrimage is a 10-day immersive experience for young adults offering training in the spirituality and practices of nonviolent social change in the lineage of Jesus of Nazareth, Mahatma Gandhi, and Martin Luther King, Jr. Combining storytelling, contemplative practice, and community engagement, participants learn from atomic bomb survivors and Indigenous leaders across the Pacific Northwest while exploring the spiritual and strategic foundations of peace building.