It’s been a month since I began my journey as rector of St Alban’s, and what a month it’s been. They call it the “honeymoon period,” but for me, it’s felt more like a season of grace: full of introductions, invitations, and quiet moments of awe.

I’ve been part of the St Alban’s community for almost two years, presiding, preaching, and sharing in worship from time to time. I’ve come to know the space, the rhythm, and many of the faces. But this time is different. Stepping into the role of rector brings new responsibilities, new relationships, and a deeper sense of call. It’s not just about showing up; it’s about being entrusted with the care, vision, and everyday life of this congregation.

Already, I’m able to call each one by name, just as Jesus said the shepherd knows and calls each of his flock by name. And like the shepherd who loves his sheep, I hold this community in prayer daily. It’s a quiet rhythm of intercession and gratitude, a way of staying close to the joys and struggles that shape our shared life.

Over the past month, I’ve met parishioners who carry decades of faith and service in their bones, and newcomers who walk through our doors with curiosity and courage. I’ve shared coffee and conversation, laughter and prayer, and stood witness to stories that remind me why the Church matters—not as a building, but as a living body.

here’s something humbling about being welcomed into a community’s rhythm. I’ve learned the names of saints who sit in our pews and saints whose memory lingers in the walls. I’ve watched volunteers set up tables with care, musicians offer their gifts with joy, and elders speak wisdom with gentleness. Every act, every gesture, has whispered: “You belong.”

Of course, there have been moments of uncertainty as well. Learning the liturgical flow, navigating pastoral needs, and discerning how best to serve in a city as diverse and complex as Richmond, it’s stretching in the best way. But even in the questions, I’ve felt held. By God’s Spirit. By the quiet faithfulness of this congregation. By the shared hope that we are building something together.

I’m especially eager to deepen our engagement with the broader community, to build trust, foster dialogue, and extend welcome in ways that feel real and reciprocal. I believe St Alban’s can be a place of healing and renewal, not just for those who worship here, but for those who pass by, wonder, and dare to step in.

To everyone who’s offered a smile, a story, or a prayer this past month: thank you. You’ve made this honeymoon feel like home.