Walking a Labyrinth

This weekend at Camp Stevens with Agape felt like stepping into holy ground shaped by wind, stone, and ancient trees. The further we moved from the noise of campus and glowing screens, the more clearly I could hear the quiet invitation of God in the wilderness around us. Morning light filtered through the branches of old oak trees, painting the paths in shifting gold and green, while the cool mountain air carried the scent of earth and oaks. We shared meals, laughter, and long conversations that seemed to unfold as naturally like trails beneath our feet. In that place, surrounded by creation, I was reminded that faith often grows slowly and steadily, like roots stretching deep beneath the forest floor.

One of the most meaningful moments of the weekend was praying in the labyrinth among the oaks. As I walked its winding path, I found myself letting go of worries with each turn, trusting that God was present not only at the center, but in every uncertain step along the way. The silence was alive with birdsong, rustling leaves, and the creaking branches in the evening light, as though creation itself was praying alongside us. Walking the labyrinth with friends from Agape reminded me that faith is both deeply personal and beautifully communal. Together we entered the quiet, carrying one another’s hopes, questions, and prayers, and we left with a renewed sense of peace and belonging grounded in God’s enduring love.