Blog post
For two weeks in August, I joined clergy, laity, theologians, and scholars from across the United States and Canada to engage six major pillars: Climate Justice, Secularism and Laicity, Racism and Anti-Racism, Interfaith Dialogue, Solidarity with Indigenous Communities, and Wealth Disparity and Poverty. While each pillar challenged my thinking, what stayed with me most were the quiet moments outside the classroom: breakfast conversations, walks after plenaries, and late-night discussions that deepened our understanding of one another. Those moments reminded me that God often does His best work where difference meets commonality, creating the connections that turn strangers into community.
Those moments also reminded me why I had applied in the first place. I wanted to be part of an ecumenical space where I could learn from others who loved God and desired to broaden their understanding of theology and ministry. I arrived determined to represent my people, my school, and the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church. At the same time, I wrestled with insecurity. Did I belong in these conversations? Was I qualified to be here? Through prayer and talks with loved ones, I came to a simple but powerful realization: God had already equipped me for this journey. I was enough.
One of the most meaningful experiences came one evening after dinner during our first week at the Capuchin Retreat Center in Washington, Michigan (US). A few members of our cohort gathered over coffee and dessert to discuss the similarities and differences between Christianity and Islam. Mohamed Askalany, a Sunni Muslim, and I had facilitated prayer together earlier that evening, each sharing an element of our own faith tradition. What followed was even more meaningful than the formal session. Through honest conversation, we offered and received wisdom, asked questions without fear, and grew in our appreciation for one another. In those ordinary moments I witnessed true ecumenism, not simply learning about another tradition, but building relationships rooted in humility, respect, and genuine curiosity.
Another experience that reinforced this lesson came during our study of Racism and Anti-Racism when we visited Second Baptist Church in Detroit, the last known standing church in America that served as a safe haven on the Underground Railroad. Walking through the sanctuary where Frederick Douglass, Carter G. Woodson, and Martin Luther King Jr. once stood was inspiring, but descending into the basement where freedom seekers once hid was deeply moving. Standing where my ancestors could have stood filled me with gratitude, sorrow, and responsibility. I was reminded that while I still experience prejudice as a Black man in America, I also enjoy opportunities my ancestors prayed for. Their sacrifices compel me to educate future generations, honor our history, and continue working toward a more just future. NATI-RETI stretched my faith in unexpected ways. Every plenary and small-group discussion challenged my assumptions and broadened my perspective. I was surprised by the diversity of our cohort and by how continued dialogue transformed my understanding of people. What I initially perceived as prejudice sometimes proved to be ignorance, something that honest conversation can address. These experiences taught me patience, understanding, and the importance of listening before judging. They also strengthened my commitment to ecumenism by reminding me that the work of unity begins with relationships.
NATI-RETI has shaped both my life and work in ministry. I leave with new perspectives, lasting friendships, and a renewed commitment to building bridges across differences. If there is one lesson I hope others take from my experience, it is that ecumenism begins in small rooms with honest conversations. It requires vulnerability, authenticity, and the willingness to learn from those who are different from us. In accepting our differences, we often discover our deepest common ground. That is the gift NATI-RETI gave me, and it is a gift I hope to carry into every ministry context God calls me to serve.
Special thanks to the National Council of Churches, Canadian Council of Churches, and World Council of Churches for organizing this incredible experience. I will never forget the time spent learning and sharing with some of the brightest minds I have encountered. This institute is necessary because it creates a space for authentic conversations that are often difficult, yet essential for the growth of the universal church.
About the author :
William L. Johnson IV was born and raised in North Carolina and am currently living in St. Louis, MO. He is a member of the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church and serves as a traveling minister within his denomination. A graduate of the University of Missouri with a Bachelor of Science in Political Science I am Currently in his final year at Hood Theological Seminary where he is pursuing a Master of Divinity degree. He is heavily involved in the work of ministry within his own context, developing ministries for his congregation to participate in, specifically focusing on youth. Outside of ministry, he works for the National Urban League as a workforce development specialist. This work is ministry in itself, as Ihe is on the ground level with those who are oppressed, marginalized, and impoverished. In assisting his clients reach their individual educational and employment goals, he also walks with them as they navigate difficult situations in their lives. Serving as a bridge when all others have been destroyed.
