Following Up with the Fellows: Gabe

One thing that has shifted for me is seeing peace and justice in the Church as less about “programs” and more about formation—how we’re being shaped as a people and not just what events we run. Being in this fellowship with other young Christians who are honest about burnout, structural oppression, and their own doubts has made me less satisfied with symbolic justice language and more hungry for churches that practice shared power, mutual care, and material solidarity with marginalized communities. It has also deepened my conviction that my Black, queer, Christian identity isn’t an “add-on,” but actually a lens the Spirit uses to reveal where the Church’s peace is shallow and where God is still calling us to repair.

I’m carrying back a commitment to centering “with, not for” as a spiritual practice in my church and community work. That means slowing down enough to ask, “Whose voice is missing? Who is setting the agenda? Who benefits if we move quickly and who gets left behind?” and treating those questions as part of discipleship, not just organizing. I’m also carrying a practice of building small, consistent spaces of reflection with other leaders, so we’re not just doing justice work but confessing where we fall short and discerning together where God is nudging us next.

If I were talking to someone at church who cares about justice but feels weary or skeptical, I would share a story about sitting with other fellows who were naming the same disappointments with the Church—and still choosing to stay at the table. I’d describe how people shared very real pain around racism, queerness, class, and church hurt, and instead of shutting it down with “nice” theology, the group treated those stories as sacred and as data about where God’s justice is urgently needed. That experience gave me hope because it showed me a picture of church where telling the truth, especially as a marginalized person, is not seen as divisive but as the doorway to deeper peace and more honest community