I do not have a degree in Christian Education; I am not ordained; I never worked in a church before my position at Christ Church. I have a doctorate in religious studies, have been (I hope) a faithful Episcopalian for 22 years, and have mostly worked in academia (college—not seminary—teaching) and in the media. I became the Director of Faith Formation at Christ Church because the rector, an acquaintance, asked me to help him out. Put simply, I decided to do a friend a favor.

At the beginning—and I even said this to him—I thought it would be easy. Organize some Sunday morning programs, teach some Bible studies, and offer a couple of classes myself. After all, I'd been a college professor for a dozen years. I knew how to teach theology and the Bible.

Very quickly, I realized that being the adult educator in a big, complex parish like Christ Church was one of the most challenging things I'd ever agreed to do. My work involved teaching, yes. But I was also an administrator (with a budget and a secretary), program planner, hospitality and event coordinator, sexton, graphic arts designer, educational theory expert, theologian-in-residence, congregational development consultant, spiritual director, preacher, sister-confessor to the clergy, and conflict resolution specialist. I never dreamed that one simple thing—coordinating adult formation—could draw off so much of my creativity or make me think so intentionally about spiritual formation.

Nor did I guess that I'd just signed up for a self-directed hands-on seminary-level education in pastoral and practical theology! In my first year, I read everything I could about congregations—how they learn and how they change—and I'm still reading today. And attending workshops. And asking lots of questions. And I'm more dependent on God, the Spirit, my prayer life, retreats, discernment, and theological study than ever before. It is true—there are no atheists in foxholes (especially church foxholes). My spiritual life is richer, deeper, and more committed because I served these people.

There is one personal challenge I'd like to share. Early on, Bill, a friend who was a rector at another large Episcopal congregation, gave me an important piece of advice: "Diana, whatever you do, you've got to love that congregation. You've got to love them and keep loving them. That's the only thing that matters. Loving those people."

I realized that Bill shared with me deep wisdom—about what it means to be in ministry. And I realized that love is the hardest wisdom to live. Some days, I thought I loved them. Many more days they frustrated me and made me angry. Sometimes I wanted to walk out and tell them what I really thought of them. Once in a while, I saw Jesus in them (I also learned that sometimes, when I didn't see him, I needed new glasses!). And everyday, I struggled with what it meant to love a congregation—especially one I did not really like.

What does it mean to serve, to shape, to mentor, to give, to have compassion, to support, to challenge, and to transform others? Because of my own questions and where I am on my spiritual journey, they have taught me more than I ever imagined I could know about love. And how love happens in community.

This guide tells you what I have learned, the books and resources I found helpful in my own journey of becoming an adult educator. It is not meant to be comprehensive. Rather, it points you in directions you may want to pursue. And it raises many of the questions I've asked myself about my vocation, about the congregation, and about the how-to's of ministry. The information shared here is a snapshot of a journey in progress—how one serious churchgoer accidentally joined the staff of a church and tried to make a real difference in the lives of others and in the world. It is a process, a pilgrimage. I hope you find it helpful in your calling. And I hope that it creates a learning community of educators who are struggling to find good conversation partners along the way.