05/08/2026
On behalf of our St. Paul community, we would like to take a moment to recognize the Senior Class of 2026.
I would like to share a story about these young people:
A story about a group of young people who walked into a C.E. building and others who found their way here in different times and different ways and together, you changed everything.
Some of you were part of that very first class I ever taught. And I’ll be honest—I felt small. Unsure. Afraid I was letting you down before we even began.
But all of you, in your own ways, showed up.
Week after week, season after season—you showed up. Not always in the same rooms, not always in the same programs, but always as part of this community.
One night I asked you to listen to a song that had been sitting heavy on my heart. And one of you said, “I’ll listen to yours if you listen to mine.” I said yes. His eyes got big—like he didn’t expect me to actually agree.
You listened to my song, laughed a little, and when it was his turn, he changed his mind and picked a different one. And that moment—that tiny, ordinary moment—told me everything I needed to know about who you were becoming.
Because while some people look at teenagers and only see the choices they don’t understand, I look at you and see young people figuring out who they are in this wild, beautiful, complicated faith journey of yours.
We saw it in the questions. The real ones. The hard ones. The kind that don’t always come with easy answers. And we saw the courage it took for you to wrestle with those questions, to keep seeking, and ultimately to stand before this community and be confirmed in your faith. That kind of honesty—that kind of searching—is holy.
We saw it in a quiet, steady presence too. In showing up on Sundays, in being part of this space, in the joy of recognition and connection—like the way you now recognize Pastor not just here, but out in the greater community. That kind of belonging, that kind of relationship, matters more than we sometimes have words for.
We saw it when your world shook with a diagnosis none of us expected. You could have pulled away. You could have shut down. But instead—you chose to go on a mission trip for the very first time. You chose to serve. To show up for someone else even when your own hearts were breaking.
We saw it when you traveled to youth gatherings, when you worked side by side on service trips, when you built a community not because anyone forced you to, but because you wanted to belong to something bigger than yourselves.
We saw it when you stepped into leadership—serving as youth representatives on our church council—not waiting for adulthood to have a voice, but using it right now, faithfully and boldly.
We saw it when you knocked on my door looking for lawn work—dependable, respectful, showing up with hands ready to help.
We saw it when you volunteered at VBS, when one of you sat beside a child no one else could quite reach, talking video games until trust cracked open and connection finally happened.
We saw it when you invited friends to church, walked alongside them, and showed what discipleship looks like—not with fancy words, but with your lives—your gifts, your time, your hearts.
And here’s the truth we would like you to carry as you step into adulthood:
You may not show up in this building every week. You may not always be part of the same programs. Life will pull you in a thousand directions.
But you belong here.
You live on in our hearts.
And We pray that you will always carry a piece of St. Paul in yours.
Because you showed up.
In big ways and small ways.
In loud moments and quiet ones.
You grew up.
You stepped up.
And you taught me—my first class, and all of you who became part of this community—that God works through the small, the unsure, the ordinary, the unexpected.
You taught me that showing up is holy work.
And you’ve been doing it from the very beginning.
Class of 2026- you are loved, you are held, you belong, you are sent, and you are ready.
